


Deadly

by majesticartax



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Blow Jobs, Blushing, Clunky movie references, Happy Ending, Hinata is dumb as a fucking brick and just as thirsty, Laundromat AU, Lots more tags to come!, M/M, Masturbation, Mysterious Kageyama Tobio, Self-Voyeurism, Supernatural Elements, lots of star wars stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-17 18:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12371298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticartax/pseuds/majesticartax
Summary: Hinata finally gets the excitement he's been longing for while working the night shift at the local laundromat.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my dear friend @duckygirl605 over on tumblr :D
> 
> And if you're familiar with the movie _American Psycho_ you should recognize a little joke I threw in there.

When Hinata landed the night shift position at the local laundromat, he couldn’t believe his ears when the manager told him there had been no other applicants; _surely_ someone else would have been enchanted by the idea. The people who frequent the night laundries must be interesting: desperate students toiling endlessly under a time crunch, struggling writers and insomniac artists, transients or fugitives on the run with with endless stories just waiting for an attentive ear - and he’d be right there to provide that service to them (along with a wide assortment of reasonably-priced fabric softeners).

The entire idea was just so… romantic! He couldn’t wait to meet all sorts of fascinating, potentially _dangerous_ people.

But as the weeks passed him by, he slowly realized that maybe his new job wasn’t quite the fairytale he envisioned.

It wasn’t that the customers were awful, but they certainly weren’t _interesting_ \- and if they _were_ , they weren’t exactly stoked on the idea of sharing their lives and stories with Hinata at two in the morning.

But… hey, sometimes he’d get the opportunity to show someone how to clean out a lint trap in a dryer! That’s something, right?

But that’s typically where the interactions would end.

And so, he eventually resigned himself to sitting quietly at the front desk, disheartened and lonely, scrolling through his phone or flipping through one of the garbage magazines that the customers left behind.

Sometimes he’d fill a couple pages in the coloring books stuck in the children’s corner - it’s not like they got any use, otherwise.

Even the smiles he’d greet the guests with started to lose their luster.

Until, eventually, he stopped smiling at them all together. It’s not like they smiled back.

They barely even looked at him.

Every shift was the same - the same boring night with the same boring, unfriendly people, the same magazine he’s been reading for three nights now, the same clock on the same beige wall that he’s been watching for weeks, just waiting for four o’clock to roll around so he can close up and shuffle home, the same—

“Hi.”

Hinata yelps, head snapping up from his tattered magazine so quickly he jolts on his stool. He grabs wildly at the counter to keep from toppling backwards.

“H-hi!” Hinata stammers a greeting, forcing a smile onto his weary face. He didn’t even hear the door jingle. But, there, standing… an odd several feet from the counter is a tall, young guy, probably close to Hinata’s age, with dark hair and a completely blank expression on his pale, tired face. The guy blinks slowly once, twice, and then again before… still not saying anything else.

“Um,” Hinata says, licking his lips, “can I help you?”

The guy blinks again.

A few more seconds pass with nothing but the quiet mechanical hum of fluorescent lights and dryers to break the awkward silence; but then, to Hinata’s immense relief, the guy parts his lips as if to speak. But he closes them again and drags his hazy eyes away from Hinata’s face, slowly strolling them around the laundromat.

Now, Hinata has seen his fair share of drunk people stumble in, but there’s nothing unsteady to this guy’s stance. Usually a night of drinking is paired with the telling scent of alcohol cutting sharply through the clean scent of detergent and rumpled clothes carrying a decent amount of the night’s libations that didn’t make it to the person’s mouth. But the man’s white t-shirt is clean, free of wrinkles and stains, and yeah, he’s standing too far away for Hinata to smell him, perhaps, but nothing about the way he’s standing there suggests a night of too much drinking.

Except the bizarre glassiness to his bloodshot blue eyes.

Maybe it’s drugs, Hinata thinks sadly. It’s a shame, really, the guy is… kind of hot.

Kind of.

But when those eyes find his again, that “kind of” veers sharply into “very.” Hinata's heart skips a beat.

“Do,” Hinata swallows, untacking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, “you need a machine for that?” He asks, pointing at the balled up fabric clutched in the man’s fist at his side. He knows that the whole laundromat thing can be confusing for some people their first time, so maybe he can cut the guy some slack.

But, even so, usually people bring their laundry in, like, a basket or something.

Blue eyes blink again and then roll down to his small bundle - Hinata swears he looks almost like he forgot he was carrying something.

But then he glances back up. And then he nods.

“Okay!” Hinata chirps, sliding off his stool and walking around to the front of the counter, approaching the other man. “You can come over this way… ah... wait,” Hinata pauses, getting another look at what appear to be white bedsheets mottled and blotched a deep red wound in his hand. “What’s… on those?”

The guy pulls the sheets behind his back, but it’s a sluggish motion, his face showing the first hint of what could be emotion since he walked in - his cheeks pink and his eyes drop away when his free hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck.

And then Hinata hears his voice.

“It’s…” he says slowly, deeply “cranberry juice.”

Hinata never knew those words could sound so luscious.

Jesus. Maybe he needs to find a new job. Hasty juice excuses aren’t supposed to be sexy. Especially when he’s pretty sure that the stain in question is—

“Isn’t cranberry juice purple?” Hinata presses, narrowing his eyes at the sheets.

“Cran…” the man continues hesitantly, pulling his hand further behind his back, “apple.”

“Uh huh…” Hinata says, eyes flicking back up to the man’s blushing face. But he decides that maybe whatever happened in this guy’s bed is absolutely none of his business (though he certainly wouldn’t mind making it his business. Hinata has always liked it rough... he needs to get out more); and besides, it’s unlikely that he’d be lucky enough for the monotony of this goddamn job to finally be broken up by any sort of, like, hot guy serial killer or whatever.

And the degree of embarrassment showing in the man’s handsome face suggests to Hinata that that isn’t the case.

Unfortunately.

Hinata sighs. “Okay,” he says, “follow me.”

But as he leads the way through the machines, a terrible thought occurs to Hinata: what if this guy is hurt? What if he was attacked and was threatened into not going to the police so instead he limped down to the laundromat, scared and alone and ashamed to have been a victim of a violent act perpetrated by someone he trusted enough to let into his bed?

But a side glance towards the very clearly uninjured, unbloody man beside him squashes those thoughts back down.

Maybe it really is juice.

“You can use this one,” Hinata says when they reach a washing machine. “Money goes here, or you can use a credit card here, then you put the detergent in right here, fabric softener goes—”

“Um,” the man interrupts from behind Hinata, clearing his throat. “Where does the soap come from?”

Hinata turns slowly, then takes a sharp step backwards into the machine, eyes wide and startled when he finds the man standing only a couple inches from him.

“I-I can sell you some!” Hinata says quickly, pressed up against the cool metal.

“Okay,” the man says, giving Hinata that blank stare, yet again.

And standing this close, looming over him, Hinata can confirm that, no, this man definitely does not smell like alcohol; rather his scent is fragrant, earthy and warm and startlingly alluring.

Damn - Hinata’s head is actually starting to swim.

“Would, uh,” Hinata starts nervously, sidestepping away from between the man and the machine, “this be easier if I just washed it for you?”

The guy looks down at the sheets and then back up at Hinata, hesitating only for a moment before thrusting the bundle towards Hinata’s face.

“I’m new here,” the guy blurts.

Hinata blinks rapidly at the sheets in his face. Then focuses on the expectant eyes beyond them. He raises a brow.

_What is this, school?_

“New… in town,” the man corrects as Hinata takes the sheets, unfurling them in the process.

“Oh, well, welcome to the neighborhood!” Hinata says happily, examining the stain more closely. “Do you… uh, have a dog?” He asks, narrowed eyes running over several small holes pricked into the soiled fabric. “It looks like something has been… chewing on these.”

“Yeah,” the man says flatly. “She likes… cranberry juice.”

“Cran-apple,” Hinata mutters, turning to stuff the sheets into the machine behind him.

“Right.”

Hinata walks the other man through the process of washing the sheets, throwing in some free fabric softener for a first-time customer, all the while being painfully aware of those blue eyes staring intently at the side of his face while he works. When he feels himself blush, he sees the guy lick his lips out of the corner of his eye. Then he jerks his gaze away.

“So, um,” Hinata asks, jabbing at the _start cycle_ button. “You just moved here?”

“Yeah,” the guy says, watching an older woman load some clothes into a dryer on the other side of the room.

"From where?" Hinata asks.

"Somewhere..." the man murmurs, his brow furrowing as he continues to stare, "...else."

Hinata frowns.

“Kageyama.”

“What?” Hinata asks, cocking his head.

“My name,” the guy says, turning his attention slowly back to Hinata, “is Kageyama.”

“Oh!” Hinata replies, surprised by the introduction. “I’m Hinata! It’s nice to meet you!"

“You too,” Kageyama mumbles, watching Hinata’s face for several seconds, drawing that blush up into his cheeks again.

Hinata clears his throat loudly, nodding towards the front of the laundromat. “I have to get back to my, uh, post, but there’s a sofa over there,” he explains, pointing to the back of the room. “There’s coffee and some vending machines, too. And the wifi password is on a sign over there.”

But Kageyama just continues to stare.

“Okay, um, well,” Hinata fidgets, looking away, “you could come sit up front with me, i-if you want. It gets kind of lonely. Here. A-at night, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Kageyama replies flatly. Agreeing to something, but Hinata isn’t sure what.

But a wave of delight ripples its way through Hinata’s stomach when Kageyama follows him back to the counter.

This bizarre, seemingly impaired man is, tragically, the most exciting thing to happen to him in what feels like ages - definitely since he got this shitty-ass job.

Maybe he's just desperate for a little attention.

They don’t talk much, really, but Hinata is grateful for the company, albeit silent and weird and distressingly attractive; Kageyama certainly isn’t much for conversation, but he sits there at the counter with Hinata, staring out the window into the night or reading the magazine over Hinata’s shoulder.

Not that Hinata can concentrate on the pages; he’s never felt so… thrillingly uncomfortable. Kageyama has absolutely no concept of personal space, or rather he has a strange attitude towards it. He’s either pressed up against Hinata’s arm, scowling down at the pages of the magazine and roughly grabbing Hinata’s hand to keep him from flipping to another one - Hinata starts trying to turn pages early just for the pleasure of having those long fingers encircle his wrist - or he’s scooting his stool far down the length of the counter to unabashedly stare at Hinata from afar. And when it’s time to switch the sheets to the dryer, Kageyama doesn’t so much watch closely as he watches _Hinata_ closely.

Usually, Hinata is an endless chatterbox, no matter how quiet the other person may be, but the nervous energy vibrating its way through his body has wiped his mind clean of any conversational topics. With those blue eyes focused on him, Hinata’s brain is all muddled and hazy, fogged with that intoxicating scent when Kageyama draws near again.

Hinata’s spine straightens when Kageyama’s knee bumps his below the counter, his heart starting to race when his arm is jostled by Kageyama’s hand, cool fingertips gently resting against Hinata’s elbow.

“So,” Kageyama starts, voice so deep and soft and far too close to Hinata’s ear that he shivers, “what’s—”

Hinata jolts at the intrusive buzzing that he hears fifty times a night. Kageyama’s dryer has stopped.

Kageyama seems to have been startled, too, because he’s suddenly on his feet, staring down at Hinata with wide, worried eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Hinata asks breathlessly, cursing the goddamn dryer while his pulse flutters away in his ears.

“Nothing,” Kageyama replies quickly.

“Your laundry is done,” Hinata tells him. Brown eyes flick to the clock, and he realizes it’s ten minutes to close. They’re the only two left in the building.

“Yeah,” Kageyama says, glassy eyes dropping to the floor. “Thank you.”

Hinata swallows, watching Kageyama step around the counter and stalk unsteadily to the dryer. He wrenches open the door and yanks the sheets out, turning on his heel and making a beeline for the door.

“Wait!” Hinata cries, jumping to his feet. 

Kageyama freezes, one hand on the door and the other clutching the sheets to his chest. He screws his eyes shut. “What,” he demands through grit teeth.

Hinata isn’t sure what just happened - his heart is still hammering like mad, palms sweaty where they press against the counter. He swallows thickly, panicking at the abrupt change in mood. Did he do something wrong? Is this hot weirdo angry about something? And what the hell was he going to say?

“What were you going to say?” Hinata asks, voice strained.

Kageyama’s shoulders relax, tension bleeding out of them as he breathes out slowly. Then those tired, hazy eyes find Hinata’s again, and Kageyama asks,

“What’s a wifi password?”

Hinata blinks. “Huh?”

“Nothing,” Kageyama says, face snapping forward again, “I… I have to go.”

And then there’s the merry jingle of bells.

And Kageyama is gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward movie references? Check. Abrupt increase in rating? Check check. Titular line dropping? Oh YEAH. Most of this is grossly self-indulgent and I’m a garbage person? OBVIOISLY!
> 
> But the real question is: Will we find out more about Kageyama? You'll have to read to find out :3 
> 
> This terribly long overdue addition to this fic is for @duckygirl605, who has some awesome things happening in her life :D get it, girl!

Days pass and there aren’t any more mysterious stranger sightings or interactions to speak of. Every night Hinata sits anxiously on his stool, hopeful brown eyes flicking up at every jingle of the door.

But he’s always left disappointed.

And soon, the monotony of his job swallows him up again with no remorse. Draining him slowly of any optimism – any hope of making some connection. Maybe a friend to help him pass the long, lonely, April Fresh-scented nights.

Although sometimes it feels like someone’s watching him; and it’s true, sometimes someone is. Though the blank, zombie-like stares from the insomniac old ladies or exhausted students he’s met with when he raises his head can’t really be classified as ‘watching’. He can barely find any life behind those vacant, zoned out eyes as they wait for their wash cycle to end.

But sometimes it happens when there’s no one even there. And, look, Hinata isn’t one to scare easily. He may not be big, but he can… um…

Well, he can’t fight. But he can run. He’s exceptionally good at that.

 _Exceptionally_.

So in the early hours of the morning, almost at the end of his shift – _dead time_ , he calls it, when everyone has packed up and gone home and no one has enough time to come in to wash a load before closing – he’s been getting this… feeling. It’s prickly. Breezy. Not entirely unpleasant, but it makes him pick his head up and look around. Walk to the large picture window at the front of the ‘mat to peer out into the dark street. He’s even opened the door to sweep his eyes up and down the sidewalk. But no one is ever there.

Christ, he’s so bored and lonely he’d almost kill for some kind of stalker. But he hasn’t been so lucky.

Yet still, that feeling remains.

He ultimately chalks it up to the staggering solitude. Like Jack Torrance in _The Shining_ , Hinata thinks. Only instead of offering his soul for a beer he’d trade it for some goddamn company. Even a ghost would do!

But… actually, that gives him an idea.

He starts bringing his laptop with him to watch movies once everyone clears out. He’s certain it’s against the rules, but there’s probably some law against subjecting employees to solitary confinement, too! And as long as he keeps the computer away from the security camera then he’ll be in the clear.

It does little to relieve his craving for human contact, but it’s something, he supposes.

About a week into his illicit movie watching, Hinata thinks it might be time to check the security cameras again, just to be sure his unlawful activities haven’t slipped into view.

So grabbing his keys from his messenger bag, he unlocks the door to the office in the back and plops into the ratty desk chair before switching on the monitors to the CC feed.

Perfect. With his stool just at the bottom left of the frame and the camera pointed mostly towards the window and the door, Hinata can keep his laptop off to the side and still look like he’s diligently manning his post. He can even toss a magazine onto the counter to make it look more believable (though why reading is allowed is beyond him. He’s seen plenty of people lose themselves so much more deeply to books than movies. Then again, no one is getting super invested in last January’s issue of _Tamago Club Monthly_ so he can appreciate the double standard).

Satisfied, he stands and reaches to switch off the monitor, but then he stops. Pauses. And then he cocks his head.

What did he just see?

He blinks.

Nothing.

It’s nothing.

Wait.

He narrows his eyes, slowly raising a hand to the grainy screen, grazing his fingertips over a dark image outside the window that slowly slinks back into view.

A feeling hits him. Sharp. Directionless. Some might call it fear.

But not Hinata.

“HEY!” he shrieks, spinning around and crashing into the desk chair in his haste, tumbling over it and taking it to the ground with him. He scrambles up using the doorframe as an aid and sprints to the front door, wrenching it open and staggering out onto the sidewalk to see—

He sighs.

Nothing.

The bell jingles softly as the door swings shut behind him.

What the hell did he expect? _Who_ did he expect? And what if there was someone there? Just some tired soul peeking in to see if the laundromat is still open at three-forty-five in the morning. And here comes Hinata, blasting out of the building like it’s going up in flames.

 _Well maybe they should just google the hours_ _then,_ Hinata thinks sourly at this hypothetical customer.

Feeling more dejected than he should, Hinata scuffs his way back to his stool for the last fifteen minutes of his shift.

He turns off the security monitor before he leaves.

But not before staying an extra five minutes to see if the shadow returns.

It doesn’t.

* * *

One more night passes before he sees Kageyama again.

Around two o’clock, Hinata decides to mix things up a little and straighten the children’s area _before_ restocking the coffee stuff. He can barely contain his excitement.

Gathering up the broken crayons and neatly stacking the coloring books, Hinata absently raises his head to say goodnight to one of the guests.

And there he is.

Kageyama seems to materialize from behind the departing customer as she walks past, the little jingle of the bell trailing in her wake as Hinata’s eyes lock onto the tall figure with a small laundry basket held against his hip—

_“YOU!”_

Kageyama jolts. Then has the audacity to glance around and behind himself as if Hinata would be shouting at anyone else. “Me?” he asks when he looks back at Hinata, eyes all big and blue. Much more lively and bright than they were the last time. Hinata almost feels assaulted. Ironic, as he’s the one knocking over the basket of coloring books he just straightened in his rush to barrel towards the man. Kageyama rears back a little as Hinata approaches.

Self-awareness strikes and Hinata stops about three feet from Kageyama; he clears his throat and then nervously looks around at the patrons who are now looking at them as if they’re waiting for a show.

“Hi,” Hinata says, taking a self-conscious step backwards.

“Hi,” Kageyama replies, the hint of a question wedged into the greeting. Right. It’s unlikely that Kageyama has given the same amount of thought to their short time together several nights ago as Hinata.

Hinata takes another step back. Mostly to get a better look at Kageyama as a whole. The man looks _better_. Healthier. Instead of that glazed, unfocused look, his eyes are sharp and full of intention and emotion – mostly confusion – as they study Hinata carefully. There’s no longer a shadow of exhaustion etched beneath them, and he moves lightly, shifting his weight from foot to foot, the sluggishness completely gone. He’s wearing pretty much the same thing he had on the last time, but a white t-shirt and jeans is typical laundry attire. But he almost carries the air of an entirely different person. But he’s not. He’s him.

“It’s… Kageyama, right?” Hinata says as nonchalantly as possible, trying his ultimate hardest to hide his joy. “Do you need a machine?”

Kageyama jostles the basket at Hinata. “Obviously,” he says with his deep rumble of a voice, “ _Hinata._ ”

Hinata feels his life shorten by ten years.

“Y-yes, of course!” he sputters, turning on his heel as his face warms. “You can come this—”

“I know what I’m doing,” Kageyama says sharply, pushing past Hinata to stride confidently towards the machines.

Hinata blinks up at him as he steps by, disappointment stopping him in his tracks and crinkling his brow. He watches Kageyama walk down the aisle of front-loaders, stopping about halfway down and setting his basket on top. Not even giving Hinata a second glance as he starts sorting the items.

“Well,” Hinata mutters to himself, “fine then.”

Hinata is reminded of the other night with the same feeling of dejection sucking at the bottom of his stomach as he plops heavily onto his stool, thunking his forehead onto the counter. _Way to be, Shouyou_ , he thinks. He’s not sure what he expected, really. But obviously he expected something, right?

There’s a fine line between expectation and hope, he knows. Kageyama probably returned to the laundry during the day shift. The normal shift. And that’s why he hasn’t seen him – it’s not like he hasn’t been _back_. It was stupid to think that this gorgeous man would be skulking around the midnight laundries like the rest of the tired, worn out city.

He just wanted a friend. Is that so bad?

It’s probably for the best though; he has a hard time being friends with super attractive people. Things always… _happen_. And then it gets all awkward. But he really really _really_ just wants someone to talk to every once in a while at this life-draining piece of shit job, and it seemed like Kageyama had been at least somewhat—

_“Ahem—”_

Hinata’s head shoots up.

“Um…” Kageyama starts, shifting his eyes away with a wrinkled banknote held up in his hand, “help. Please.”

A thrill ripples through Hinata and he smiles wide. “I thought you knew what you were doing.”

Kageyama bristles. “It’s not my fault your machines don’t work!”

“It probably is,” Hinata replies, hopping off his stool with that big stupid grin still on his face. “Come on.”

Kageyama lets Hinata lead the way to his machine, grumbling under his breath the whole way. Hinata thinks its precious. Hot _and_ cute. A dangerous combination.  

“Alright,” Hinata stops in front of the machine with Kageyama’s basket on top and sticks his fists to his hips as he squares off with the washer, “what’s wrong.”

“Are you asking me or the machine?”

“Do you want my help or not?”

Kageyama scowls. “It won’t take my money.”

“Is that true, girl?” Hinata says, lightly patting the top of the machine, soothing it like a pet. He then blinks at the coin slots. Then at the paper bill clutched in Kageyama’s fist. Then the words “credit card here”. And a new kind of smile curls into his cheek. “Show me what you mean,” he says.

He has to press a hand to his mouth when Kageyama steps forward and tries to jam the yen into the card reader.

“Try, um,” Hinata drops his hand and fits his face with a serious expression. “Try swiping it.”

The way Kageyama’s creased brow smooths in childlike awe and realization _almost_ makes Hinata feel bad. But he immediately changes his mind when the man turns the bill sideways and proceeds to slowly run it vertically through the credit card slot. When nothing happens, he flips if around and tries the other side with hopeful determination set in his pretty eyes.

Hinata loses his shit. He literally falls to the floor, laughing.

Rolling onto his back, Hinata looks up at Kageyama through the copious tears to see the man staring down at him – a sight he wouldn’t mind (and will be) revisiting in the future.

“I’m—s-sorry!—” Hinata chokes out once he regains control.  “I’m sorry! I couldn’t help myself!”

But Kageyama just frowns, still wildly confused.

Hinata wipes his eyes and lets his laughter fade back into that grin and he springs to his feet. “The machine is fine, I promise,” he reaches up and gives Kageyama a light tap on the arm, doing his best to arrange his face into something that might convey sympathy, but touching Kageyama’s bare skin kicks up a fluttery feeling deep in his belly. He clears his throat. “Here,” he says, holding out a hand to take the banknote from Kageyama. “I’ll get you change. The machine doesn’t take that.”

The other man looks at the bill in his fist. “But you told me to swipe it,” he says, endearingly perplexed and surrendering it anyway.

While Hinata mentally facepalms himself to death, Kageyama finally gets it.

“Were you making fun of me!?”  

 Hinata bites his lip and nods.

The man’s lips part and he scowls, and for one heated second Hinata thinks he’s going to yell at him. His face flushes pink and he sucks in a sharp breath, but then his shoulders drop and he grabs for his basket,

“I don’t need this,” he grumbles.

“No no wait, please!” Hinata cries frantically, grabbing for Kageyama’s arm as he tries to walk by. Hinata lets go immediately when the man stops. “Please don’t go?” he asks to the side of Kageyama’s face, trying to rein in his pitiful tone. “That was mean of me. Let me help you, okay?”

Kageyama sniffs, his feet and eyes still pointed towards the exit. Hinata almost reaches for him again. Instead, he just says, quietly,

“I don’t want you to leave.”

Kageyama chews his lip for several agonizing seconds. But then,

“That was mean,” he finally agrees, flatly.

Hinata nods, eyes too wide and too pleading, he knows. But maybe this guy is weak to the puppy-dog look. God, is he really that desperate for company?

The answer to Hinata’s question is an emphatic _YES_ , he realizes, when the man turns back.

But Hinata sees hurt in his face. Though he doubts Kageyama knows it shows. Hinata knows exactly how that expression feels inside.

Lonely.

“Don’t do that to me,” Kageyama says. But it sounds almost like a request. Not a demand. Almost as if he is putting himself in Hinata’s hands. Hinata would like very much for Kageyama to be in his hands.

Or possibly the opposite, a flick of brown eyes to the long fingers curled around the edge of the basket tells him.

How about both?

“I won’t,” Hinata says, crossing his heart and holding up a hand as he solemnly swears. “I promise.”

Kageyama watches him carefully, warily. There are few things more innocuous than a person holding a laundry basket. Maybe a coat slung over the arm. It oozes vulnerability. And seeing this man standing there with his possessions clutched to his chest, even though he looks like he wants to chuck the basket into Hinata’s face at any moment, makes Hinata feel achingly fond. Oddly protective.

“Alright,” Kageyama says finally, sighing. “Give me the change, then.”

“Okay!” Hinata says happily. “I’ll be right back!”

He practically skips to the front register, humming to himself as he counts out the correct change. He knows he’s too happy about this, but maybe tonight could mark the beginning of something. He isn’t going to get his hopes up, though… he’s going to try not to, anyway. It’s literally the second time he’s seen this strange guy, and Hinata has to make sure he doesn’t shove his personality at Kageyama too quickly. But maybe tonight Hinata will get the opportunity to know him a bit better. Maybe they can have a conversation.

He closes the register and makes to jog back to the machines.

Maybe they can— _“WAH!”_ Hinata collides hard with the body posted directly behind him. The fist suddenly wound into the front of his shirt keeps him from falling onto his ass.

“Shit,” Kageyama grumbles as Hinata regains his balance. “Are you okay?”

“What the hell!?” Hinata cries, batting away the hand in his shirt. “Don’t sneak up on me!”

“I didn’t,” Kageyama says, blinking.

Hinata’s pulse is quick, his whole body warm from the split second of contact with the man’s chest. “Were you behind me the whole time!?” he asks shakily.

Kageyama nods.

“Why did you follow me? I said I’d be right back!”

Kageyama shrugs.

“Jesus,” Hinata mutters, presenting the coins to Kageyama. “Here. Or do you need more help?”

Kageyama hesitates before taking the change, but he’s not looking at it. He’s looking directly at Hinata.

And Hinata blows out a slow breath, mostly in an attempt to calm himself; he’s _thrilled_ , honestly, that Kageyama still needs him.

Hot, cute, _and_ dumb? Shit. That’s downright deadly.

After another short lesson on how to use the facilities, Kageyama follows Hinata back up to the front – invited to do so, this time.

But Hinata still gives him an out.

“You don’t have to hang out with me, you know,” Hinata says, mentally shouting the contrary at the other man as he takes a seat beside Hinata.

“Do you not want me to?” Kageyama asks.

“Not what I said!” Hinata chirps. “I just mean you can do other stuff if you want.”

Kageyama shifts his eyes around. “Like what?” he asks.

Hinata shrugs. “I don’t know. Play on your phone or whatever. There’s a TV back there—”

“My phone?”

“Hm?” Hinata hums, reaching down to pull his laptop out of his bag. “What?”

“What do you mean… my phone?”

Hinata blinks, pausing as he unzips his bag. Then he straightens back up. “Do you not have a phone?”

“I… do,” Kageyama answers, frowning. “At home.”

“Oh, well…” Hinata thinks about what he’s going to say. Knowing that Kageyama is more than a little… off, Hinata wonders if he just doesn’t understand the rules of society. “You can bring your phone here! It’s, like… allowed, you know.”

But Kageyama just stares at him, eyes narrowed. Until he says, slowly, “…how?”

“You can even bring your laptop or tablet or whatever if you have work or studying to do, too!” Hinata tells him. “Lots of people do that. What do you do, anyway? Are you a student?”

But still, Kageyama is staring at him with a totally baffled expression. Like Hinata lapsed into some foreign language.

He’s certain he didn’t. So he just pushes on, leaning back down to retrieve his laptop. “So what—”

“How do I get that?”

“Huh?” Hinata looks back up, and Kageyama is on the other side of the desk and across the room, pointing at the glass of the refrigerated vending machine.

How the hell does he move so fast?

“What?” Hinata asks, setting his laptop on the counter and opening it. “Get what?”

“That.” Kageyama jabs his finger at the row of milk.

“Um…” Hinata hesitates, “have you never… I mean, do you not know—”

“I know what a vending machine is, dumbass!” Kageyama snaps. “I’m asking if there is anything else I should know before I try putting money into something that only takes diamonds or gold bars or something!”

Hinata giggles. “It’s pretty straight forward. It just takes coins,” he says as he clicks ‘play’ on the movie he’s been watching the last few nights. It’s not quite dead time, but there are only a few customers milling around and Hinata thinks that maybe Kageyama might want something to watch. He’d restart the movie, too, if he wanted.

Kageyama narrows his eyes suspiciously at the milk, but then digs the yen out of his pocket and slips them into the slot. He buys two.

“Want one?” he asks, coming back around the counter and taking a seat.

“Um… sure,” Hinata says, taking the cool bottle with surprised eyes on Kageyama’s face. “Thank you.”

But Kageyama doesn’t hear him. He has paused halfway into opening his bottle of milk and is now staring intensely at Hinata’s laptop screen.

“What is that?” he asks, voice quiet.

Hinata arches a brow. “Hitchhiker’s Guide?”

Kageyama continues to stare.

“…to the Galaxy?”

This time Kageyama scrunches his face. “The book?”

“Ah… well, yeah,” Hinata shifts his attention back to the action on the screen, and then immediately snaps it back to Kageyama. “Wait, you’ve never seen the movie?”

Kageyama is looking at him now, a little insanely. Or that Hinata is insane. Hinata isn’t sure which.

“Did… did you even know there was a movie?” he asks hesitantly.

Kageyama slowly shakes his head; but then he huffs out angrily. “And, no, I mean _that._ ” Kageyama jabs a finger at the screen.

Hinata cocks his head then narrows his eyes at the movie, wondering if there’s something on the screen that he can’t see, so he hits ‘pause’. But when he sees Kageyama’s gaze tracing the lines of the keyboard, Hinata realizes that Kageyama means the laptop itself.

“Its… um,” Hinata picks up the laptop, flipping it upside down to find the model information, “a macbook, but I’m not sure if it’s an air or a pro or whatever. My parents got it for me for my birthday so I—” Hinata stops suddenly and lowers the laptop back to the counter.

That’s not what Kageyama is asking, either _._

Slowly, Hinata turns to the other man. Kageyama is now running his fingers over the edge of the screen gently, and despite the bizarreness of Kageyama’s ignorance, Hinata shivers a little at the gesture, imagining those fingertips ghosting over his skin.

Is this guy Hutterite?

Hinata has never met anyone like that but he knows there’s still a small population out there somewhere. Maybe Amish, even? Do they live in Japan? Is that rude to ask? And if he is, what is he doing here? Can they wear normal clothes? And they at least _know_ about technology and stuff, right? Kageyama doesn’t seem that interested in the TV and he’s in a freaking laundromat for christ sake so he at least has a basic understanding of the real world—oh _god_ is he being racist?

Kageyama is now squinting into the USB ports on the side of the computer.

No… Hinata doesn’t think he’s being racist. And he can’t think of another explanation, so,

“Hutterite?” He blurts.

Kageyama jumps, face snapping up. “Huh?”

“Nothing!” Hinata squeaks. He licks his lips nervously while Kageyama keeps his eyes on his face. “Do… you really not know what this is?” he asks slowly.

Kageyama blinks away, seemingly a bit nervous himself now. “No…” he says softly. “I… probably should, right?”

Hinata doesn’t know what to say to that. _Should_? Not necessarily. Yeah, it’s odd but… people have, like, reasons for things. And just because Hinata doesn’t understand a technologically deplete way of life doesn’t mean he gets to judge anyone for it. Hinata just hopes that Kageyama’s reason isn’t something horrible. Shit. Maybe he’s been locked in a basement for years or something. Maybe he’s been in a coma. Maybe he has amnesia!

Maybe Hinata should just fucking ask him instead of making up a tragic backstory.

He doesn’t.

“No, I think it’s kind of cool,” Hinata says, feeling a heat creep into his face. He drops his eyes to his lap. “Like… I don’t know…” _romantic_ , he wants to say. _Mysterious_. “It’s weird… but it’s nice.” Hinata worries his lip, wondering how to explain himself.

 _I’d love to know more about you_ , he should say. _You can tell me your story anytime, you know,_ would be good. And then of course there’s: _you can bend me over this counter if you want._

When Hinata raises his head, Kageyama is watching the way he chews his lip.

“Nice,” Kageyama echoes, still staring at his mouth. The word is so quiet Hinata wonders is he knows he said anything at all.  

“Or, yeah,” Hinata coughs awkwardly, turning back to his laptop, “you know. Whatever. So…” he blows out a slow breath. “This… is a laptop.” He feels like an advertisement. “It’s a computer that you can easily take—”

“A computer?” Kageyama interrupts, finally looking back at the screen.

“Y-yeah? Yes?”

Kageyama nods, expression impressed. Kind of excited, too. “What else can you do with it? Is it just a TV?”

“It’s not a TV,” Hinata says with a giggle.

Kageyama’s brow furrows. “But…” he gestures to the screen. “The movie?”

“Yeah! It’s…” Hinata decides that the concept of Netflix might be out of reach for now, “okay, well I guess you can use it as a TV, but the movie… i-it’s—"

“And where does the tape go?” Kageyama asks, poking at the side of the keyboard, leaning over the counter to look at the back of the screen. “Or are they just really small?”

“It’s not—”

“Do they all come with VCRs? Where do you buy these?”

“No, it isn’t—”

“And where are the wires?” Kageyama asks, tipping up the laptop, the pitch and volume of his voice rising with every question. “Is it magnets? Where do you put the battery pack? Is it Double-As or—”

“Kageyama!” Hinata barks. Kageyama shoots him a startled look and carefully sets the computer back down in front of him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“No… it’s okay,” Hinata says with a sigh, feeling a sharp stab of guilt. “Here, look,” he tilts the screen towards Kageyama and the man scooches his stool in a little closer. No. Wait. _A lot_ closer. Hinata remembers how unconcerned Kageyama seemed to be with personal space the night they met, and this night is proving to be no different.  

With their thighs pressed together beneath the counter and their elbows brushing on top, Hinata gets that fuzzy, swimming feeling again in his head. Kageyama is warm. Hinata doesn’t remember him being this warm. But he _does_ remember how good he smells. Earthy and heady, but not, like, dirt. Hinata can’t really explain it. There’s something sweet about it, too. Hinata remembers hearing things about pheromones but people aren’t supposed to be able to detect them, so…

Hinata leans in towards him, just a bit. Inconspicuously, of course.

“You can do lots of things with a laptop,” Hinata continues, placing his hands on the keyboard and minimizing the movie. He hears Kageyama suck in a quiet breath beside him. “Like… watch videos, read articles, play games, talk to people…”

Hinata clicks through a few of the laptop’s basic functions, hoping that he didn’t forget to close out of any questionable material, earlier, explaining as many of the basics he can, touching briefly on the internet and where the movie he was watching came from and how there are literally thousands of movies to choose from when the mood strikes. And as Hinata gives the tour of his device, Kageyama just watches silently and drinks his milk, nodding along to Hinata’s explanations or leaning in with quick excitement when Hinata switches between tabs or programs. He seems to have some previous knowledge about the existence of computers, at least, and is most fascinated by things like menu screens and when Hinata switches between apps, though Hinata doesn’t know how to pose the question about why those things are so interesting.

When he clicks on his cloud’s photo folder, Kageyama leans forward towards the thumbnails, grabbing at Hinata’s wrist like he had done with the pages of the magazine their first night before Hinata can navigate away.

“Do they get bigger?” He asks, with his warm fingers still wrapped firmly around Hinata’s arm. If he doesn’t answer right away, will Kageyama keep his hand there?

“Ah—um, y-yeah,” Hinata says quickly, anyway, blinking from his captured wrist and back to the screen, “but—”

“I want to see.” Kageyama pairs his request with a light squeeze and warmth radiates from the place of contact, spreading up Hinata’s arm and across his shoulders to dive down deep deep _deep_ inside of him, blooming into something fiery that makes Hinata’s middle tense up.

He swallows. Nodding before clicking on the first image. It’s a relatively old picture from his second year on the college volleyball team – five years ago, maybe – showing Hinata having leapt onto the back of one of his teammates with a victorious fist raised above his head. The rest of the team are in various states of celebration, as they had just won their final home game of the season. Hinata quirks a small smile at the memory.

Kageyama doesn’t say anything, and Hinata is afraid to look over at him; mostly because they are so close together now that Hinata might burn up on the spot if he did, but also because he’s afraid to move at all, unwilling to call attention to the hand still folded around his wrist that Kageyama has apparently forgotten about.

But there’s that squeeze again when Hinata inches the cursor towards the arrow to advance the photos. He has no idea what it’s meant to communicate and his head is starting to muddle with slackened judgement, so he clicks anyway.

The next picture is from the same day, just after the game and outside of the gym, with his sister hugging him around the waist and his arm around her shoulders, the two of them flashing almost identical smiles and cheesy peace signs at the camera.

This time, Kageyama moves; first, closer towards the photo, studying it; and then to Hinata’s dismay, fingers loosen from his wrist.

He doesn’t spend much time being disappointed, however, because suddenly there is a tickling rush at the back of his scalp as fingers comb their way into his hair, running up over the top of his head to gently twist into the locks. Hinata stiffens, choking in a surprised breath.

And with his hand loosely caught in Hinata’s hair, only then does Kageyama look away from the screen, holding none of the same reservations as Hinata when blinks over at him; if Hinata could move, he’d only have to lean forward a few inches to bump their noses together.

Hinata holds his breath – he doesn’t have much of a choice as his brain has short circuited entirely. Lower functions and all. Oh. He’s going to die.

That’s fine.

Kageyama looks into his eyes; he’s scowling, sort of. Considering something. He shifts his eyes back towards the screen, rolling them over before turning his head towards it. It’s a weird action, Hinata would think, if he could think anything at all. And then the man’s face pulls back again before his gaze follows. Lips part – both of theirs; Kageyama’s first and Hinata follows suit, finally hitching in a quiet breath in time with Kageyama. And then—

_“WAH!”_

“It’s the same color!” Kageyama blurts as Hinata’s head is shoved at the screen. “It’s so clear and real—"

“What the hell!” Hinata yells, squawking when his cheek is mushed against the keyboard. “Kageyama!”

“It’s just… damn,” Kageyama breathes from above him, his volume decreasing. “It looks like you could just… touch it… it’s exactly the same… the saturation… the temperature, even…”

The awe in Kageyama’s voice makes it hard for Hinata to be any sort of mad – or even confused. And yeah, there are better ways to be than face down on a keyboard that he maybe has never cleaned, but as Kageyama drags his fingers through his hair, exploring it or something, Hinata can’t think of any.

But awareness encroaches, and Hinata asks hoarsely against the keys,

“What are you talking about?”

 “The—” Kageyama pauses, “—wait, what happened?”

“I don’t _know_ because I can’t _see,_ ” Hinata grits out.

“Oh,” Kageyama says, as if just realizing now what he’s doing. He lets go. “Sorry.”

 “’s fine,” Hinata grumbles, straightening back up and making somewhat of an effort to pat his hair back into place. He clicks out of the settings screen that popped up, deciding to chastise Kageyama on the dangers of using Hinata’s face as a mouse on some other occasion. “What did you mean?” he asks, bringing a hand up to again rub at the tingling warmth left on his scalp, shadowing the feeling of the man’s fingers with his own. “What’s the same?”

“The colors,” Kageyama says softly. “Your hair. I’ve never…”

“What?” Hinata cocks his head. “You mean the quality of the photo?”

“Yeah, I…” but then Kageyama shakes his head. “Nothing,” he mutters, pulling his eyes from the screen to look, almost forlornly, out the window. “Never—”

“Excuse me!”

Hinata almost jolts out of his seat at the barking voice. Even Kageyama jumps a little.

Oh right. His job.

“Yes!” Hinata replies brightly, swiveling around in the direction of the needy customer. “How can I help!”

“The machine ate my money!” a blonde young woman shouts from the end of the dryer aisle.

“Coming!” Hinata hops off his stool, snagging his keys in the process. He glances quickly back over his shoulder at Kageyama, but the man is still staring out the window.

“Sorry about that!” Hinata chirps, putting on his best customer service face as he walks past the girl and proceeds down the aisle. “Which one is it?”

When there’s no response, Hinata stops walking and turns. The girl isn’t following him, rather she’s staring pointedly at the back of Kageyama.

Hinata narrows his eyes. “ _HEY!_ ” he shouts, recoiling at the enmity in his own voice. He plasters a grin back on his face just barely in time. “Which one?” he asks again when she turns around.

“The one with my stuff in front of it,” she scoffs, walking towards Hinata. “Do you see anyone else here?” 

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Hinata nods, cheerful as can be despite this bitch rolling her eyes at him as she walks by. And she’s right, it’s only her and Kageyama left in the laundromat, but she doesn’t have to be such a cunt about it. “We’ve had trouble with this one,” he says, oozing friendliness as he approaches the machine. He unlocks the coin reservoir and counts out the correct amount before handing it back to the girl. “So sorry about that! Any other one should be fine!” he tells her.

She doesn’t even thank him, but whatever, and Hinata carries the little coin box back to the office, stashing it in the locked cabinet before grabbing an ‘out of order’ sign off the cork board. He knows most people who come here at this time are tired – they are probably decent people, so he does his best not to let the shitty attitudes get to him.

He sighs.

He tries. But it’s hard.

Just as he’s about to leave the office, he pauses, lingering in the doorway with his finger on the light switch.

Slowly, he lets a thought unfold.

And then steps back into the room and flips on the security monitor.

Kageyama pops into view, and so does Hinata’s laptop – he’ll have to hide it better when he gets back out there. That’s _really_ why he turned the thing on in the first place. He swears.

But he watches the weird man on the screen. At first, Kageyama isn’t doing anything at all, just staring out the window, how Hinata left him. But after a minute, Hinata sees his head turn towards the laptop. Kageyama looks around, probably for Hinata, before he pulls the computer towards himself. And Hinata can just barely make it out, but he can see the screen of the laptop subtly changing.

Kageyama is looking through his pictures.

He does this for maybe three minutes, with Hinata just… watching. He would feel creepy, he supposes, if Kageyama wasn’t also invading his privacy. But, Hinata also supposes, with the man’s strange behavior, that he might not even know he’s being invasive.

Hinata, on the other hand, knows better.

And as Hinata continues to spy, he realizes that the screen hasn’t changed in a while. He squints, trying to make out what Kageyama has been looking at for so long. But he can’t make it out on the grainy feed. But then Kageyama turns, responding to some noise from behind him, it seems. Something Hinata can’t see.

But when he does see it, heat shoots up into his face. His stomach clenches.

The girl steps around to the front of the counter, flirting. _Clearly_ flirting _;_ Hinata can’t even hear anything and he knows damn well that this horrid wench is flirting with Kageyama.

He doesn’t even feel bad for hating her anymore.

But Kageyama hasn’t moved. Besides his initial reaction to her walking up behind him, his head is still tilted down, like he’s focused on the computer screen.

The girl takes her phone out of her back pocket and leans her elbows onto the counter, towards Kageyama.

 _Now_ Hinata sees him move.

With his hands on the sides of the laptop, Kageyama scoots it down the counter and swivels his body with it, turning away from the girl.

The girl stands, then, her hands falling down at her sides. Confused or something.

Hinata can feel his blood rush, his heart pumping faster; he licks his lips and leans towards the low-quality feed. Captivated.

The girl says something again, sticking a hand oh so flirtatiously to her hip and running a hand through her badly-dyed hair.

Well. Maybe it’s not dyed. But it still sucks.

But this time, in the middle of her speaking, Kageyama just sort of waves a hand at her. Almost as if shooing a fly.

“ _Yes—“_ Hinata pumps his fist. And suddenly wildly self-conscious, he claps a hand over his mouth. Really, though. What is he so happy about?

Hinata keeps watching as the girl straightens up, shocked, taking a sharp step backwards. And it looks like she might leave; she turns, then, but changes her mind and squares back in front of Kageyama, saying something with emphasis. But Kageyama waves his hand again.

Hinata squeals in quiet delight when she stomps away.  

God, what a dick. Hinata loves it.

He’s smiling when he shuts off the monitor and when he turns off the light. When he closes the door.

He smiles when he hangs the ‘out of order sign’ on the dryer and he smiles even _wider_ when he walks past the rejected, pouting woman.

“Have a great night, miss!”

He can’t help himself.

And he even keeps smiling as he approaches Kageyama from behind.

But a stabilizing breath helps him play it cool and he suppresses the crazed grin when he resumes his place on his stool.

“Anything exciting happen while I was gone?” Hinata asks casually, his eyes flicking towards the laptop screen. But whatever Kageyama was looking at is gone, replaced by Hinata’s generic background image of some green stuff that might be grass.

“No,” Kageyama says flatly, his chin posted on his fist as he stares out the window.

Hinata chews his lip, dying to ask what the girl said to him or what he was looking at. But that would blow his cover.

So he doesn’t.

A buzzing noise signals that Kageyama’s clothes are finished washing, and without a word, Kageyama stands to heads towards the machines.

Hinata frowns, reaching for the laptop and dragging it back. But he realizes that Kageyama didn’t actually close the photo viewer. He just minimized it. Of course he did; that’s all Hinata did when he was showing Kageyama around the computer. He never closed out of anything so the technologically ignorant man wouldn’t know how to do that.

After a quick look behind him, Hinata reopens the photos.

He almost chokes with embarrassment.

It’s a selfie, only it’s, like, _a selfie_. Selfie Face and all. Hinata only went through a short phase of _that –_ about a year ago, admittedly – but yet the horrible evidence remains. He had forgotten all about those pictures.

But then it hits him that _that_ ’s what Kageyama was aggressively staring at.

What…

What does Hinata do with this information? Was he just looking at his hair again? The colors? Or something else that has nothing to really do with Hinata at all?

What does it mean!?

“ _Tell me!_ ” he hisses to his own dumb face on the screen before he huffs and minimizes it again.

But then he slumps over, resting his head on his folded arms.

 _Nothing_ , he decides. It means nothing. He can’t even be sure that Kageyama was looking at the photo the whole time. He’s been pretty interested in whatever’s out the window, so.

But then why did he move the laptop when the girl was bothering him? Why didn’t he just turn away from the screen, too, if he wasn’t busy looking at it?

Or maybe he was judging Hinata’s photo. _Harshly_ , too. Like—

“What are you doing?”

 _“AH!”_ Hinata jerks upright, wild eyes falling on Kageyama, somehow right back on his fucking stool. “How do you _do that!”_ Hinata cries.

But Kageyama just arches a brow. “Do what?” he asks. But then the man licks his lips, swallowing after. “Your face is red.”

“It’s not,” Hinata grumbles.

“Yes it is.”

“It’s _not_ ,” Hinata drops his face back into his arms, blowing out an exasperated breath. What is he doing. No, really, what is he _doing?_ He’s getting wildly ahead of himself. He has no reason to be excited about anything, least of all Kageyama rejecting some rude bitch. That doesn’t automatically make him interested in Hinata. And, shit, does Hinata even _want_ Kageyama to be interested in him? The man is clearly a fucking enigma, and puzzles weren’t ever Hinata’s strong suit. And he’s lonely. That’s all. Hinata is so lonely that the first chance at actual conversation has him ready to throw himself into Kageyama’s lap (and face first if he has anything to say about it). A night out with his friends should cure him of this hot mess of a mental state. He has two nights off coming up, so he’ll text Kenma later. Maybe he’ll have some helpful advice to dispense, too.

Hinata sighs against the counter.

For now, he just needs to get through the night. So without further ado, he throws a smile back onto his face before popping up.

“Sorry!” he says, as cheerfully as humanly possible and situating himself back in front of the laptop. “I’m just a little tired. So what’s next?”

After some hesitation, Kageyama draws up beside him again, and Hinata just accepts the press of his thigh, the warmth of the man’s shoulder against his and the immediate lightheadedness that comes with it. But it’s not so much the bodily contact as it is the smell of the man that gets to him; he’s never experienced the natural scent of someone as being so fucking alluring. Is not cologne. Hinata has never really liked that. This is like… Hinata can _feel_ it. He can taste it, thick and heavy in the far back of his throat. Like Kageyama’s scent is entering Hinata and then blossoming into something else within him.

He doesn’t know how to describe it without making it sound gross, give him a break.

But it’s like… a signal. Like his own body waving a red flag of such powerfully innate sexual attraction it’s warning him to get away before he stuffs his face into the man’s chest and begs to live out the rest of his days buried there, or spreads himself out on the counter for the taking.

Hinata tries not to get hung up on that last thought. Wondering what Kageyama’s face would look like if he maybe just climbed into his lap.

Hinata presses his knees together.

“I could s-show you some games?” Hinata offers. “Video games?”

“Like arcade games?” Kageyama asks quietly to the side of Hinata’s face.

Hinata smiles. “Sort of,” he says. “Only these are—“

“Hey, um,” Kageyama interrupts lowly, shifting on the stool in a way that rubs their hips together, “would it be okay if we just… watched a movie?”

Hinata turns his head to look up at the man, heart thrumming at the reminder of their proximity when their eyes meet. Kageyama holds his gaze. Level and steady.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen once,” he adds.

The wistful tone coloring the admission gives Hinata pause, and the vulnerability in those blue eyes makes his chest clench.

Hinata swallows. “O-of course,” he whispers back. “What do you want to watch?”

There’s an exhale, and then,

“Anything.”

Kageyama almost just mouths the syllables.

But the manner of it speaks directly to a place below Hinata’s navel.

How a single, barely spoken word could both sound so sad and turn him inside out with tormenting desire Hinata will never know. And it might be his imagination – it very likely is, wishful thinking, at least – but Kageyama seems to have drifted closer, if that’s even possible. His large frame dips Hinata into shadow in a way that sours Hinata against even the mere thought of light. He’s familiar with being smaller than most other people, but here, now, their size difference strikes him with something so profoundly carnal, rocking his mind with thoughts so lurid it’s almost as if they’d been placed there intentionally. Intelligently designed with images of wide palms smoothing over his back and the sensations to match. Hinata can almost feel the grip of fingers at his hip or in his hair again, digits long enough to wrap around his bicep, hands strong enough to hold him down or hoist him up; broad shoulders that could so easily withstand Hinata’s fervor as he clings and claws while a deep, rough voice moans wordless pleasure into his ear—

Hinata just barely catches a moan of his own that rises from his throat with a hard bite to his lip and he jerks his gaze away from those bottomless pools of mesmerizing blue. His breath has quickened and he swallows hard, his hips squirming on the stool.

“Okay,” he rasps out, navigating to Netflix. “Well, w-what do you like? Action? Drama? Horror?”

But Kageyama just shakes his head, and Hinata peeks over. Kageyama is still looking at him, steadfast, unwilling to look at the computer screen. “Just pick something. Anything,” he says again. Almost begging.

“We… probably won’t be able to finish anything tonight,” Hinata points out, scrolling through movie options, fingers trembling on the trackpad. “Your c-clothes will be done before it’s over.”

“I can stay.”

Hinata’s stomach flutters and he stifles the urge to whine. “My um,” he swallows, “shift will be over soon, too.”

“I’ll…” Kageyama looks at the clock, then out the window. And for a second Hinata thinks that he’ll say he can stay past close, but, “we can finish it tomorrow.”

Hinata fires him an involuntary look. Again bringing their faces dangerously close. And even if Hinata wasn’t only a couple inches from this man, he could still see the unmistakable sadness lingering there in his face. But this closeness also alerts Hinata to… to something else just hovering beneath the surface of dark blue eyes. Just a glimmer, though, and then it’s gone.

But something deep inside Hinata recognizes it before his conscious mind does. He feels it. Mirrors it. His heart pounds with it.

It’s desperation. It’s hunger.

And it’s fear.

Hinata’s tongue darts out, wetting his dry lips before he snaps his eyes back to the screen. “Ah—y-yeah okay,” he exhales in a rush. His heart is beating too fast. No, too _hard_ – violently thudding with the tumbling of the dryers that sound so far off in the background now. Kageyama won’t look away from him. From his cheeks burning with everything this man is doing to him; with that danger pumping through his blood. In his ears is the dull beat of his pulse, muting the rest of the world as the rate of his breathing increases.

“I’d l-like that,” he hears himself say, his voice ringing far away, too.

Muffled. Like he’s under water.

He can feel his blood surging, hot and simmering beneath his skin. And the hotter he becomes, the more he can feel those blue eyes on him. Piercing. Penetrating him.

Hinata is outright panting now.

“It’s s-so boring here—you know?” he stammers between breaths before giving a crazy little laugh that resonates too deeply in his head, and still, he presses on, babbling, “sometimes I think I’m going crazy! No one ever—has anything to say, or even p-pays any attention to me unless they need, like, detergent o-or change or something so i-it will be nice to have a—friend around! Someone to talk to and—“

When Kageyama sucks in a breath, Hinata feels a lightness wash over him; like finally breaking the surface of a deep pool and he immediately gasps in a breath. Sound returns, and Kageyama is no longer shoved up against him.

And just as quickly as it came, the feeling recedes. Waning to nothing more than mild jitters.

And even though Hinata didn’t actually feel him move, the other man is several inches away from him, now, brows drawn together, lips parted,

“Friend?” he asks.

Hinata blinks several times, still rebounding from his trance. He gives his head a sharp shake and decides to just blame it all on being tired. Or maybe it was a stroke. Is that what a stroke feels like? Either way, Kageyama seems unfazed entirely; doesn’t even appear to realize anything happened, so it must not have been as dramatic as Hinata thought. “Well… yeah,” he replies, frowning at the question. Wondering if maybe he overstepped his bounds. “I-if you… I mean, you don’t have to be—”

“Oh my god, just pick something to watch already, dumbass,” Kageyama posts an elbow on the counter and props his chin on his hand, gazing back out the window. “I don’t have all night.”

Hinata scoffs, still reeling a bit, but he’s so rapidly recovering that he’s almost convinced that nothing even happened. His heart rate is normal; his breathing calm. “You’re at a laundromat at three in the morning!” he fires back.

“And?”

“And you obviously have nothing better to do, so shut the hell up and watch the movie,” Hinata snaps, giving the track pad an aggressive click and then folding his arms across his chest, shooting a look over at the other man.

Kageyama’s eyebrows lift before he turns towards the screen. “Oh, you finally—”

He pauses.

And then his eyes get real big at the blare of orchestral horns. And when the familiar yellow font begins its slow crawl up the screen, Hinata watches the first full, genuine smile spread over Kageyama’s face.

The butterflies in Hinata’s stomach fucking riot.

“Really?” Kageyama asks in a whisper.

Hinata grins. “You like Star Wars?”

Kageyama doesn’t reply, but the joy in his eyes is all the answer Hinata needs.

* * *

The next night, Kageyama arrives at the laundromat around two with another small bundle of laundry. And while he doesn’t need Hinata’s assistance this time, he welcomes Hinata to come watch… just to make sure he doesn’t mess up.

It’s adorable the way the man blushes when he slips the coins into the slot.

After his shift ended in the early hours of yesterday, Hinata locked up and Kageyama followed him the short distance to the corner before they split off and walked their separate ways home.

On his way, Hinata thought a lot about Kageyama. Wondered more and more about where the strange man came from. Hinata realized that Kageyama did, indeed, have some grasp on modern technology; he knows about computers. He knows about video games – basically just that they exist – and Hinata has gleaned that he’s seen some movies ( _Star Wars_ , obviously. The first one, anyway), but being somewhat afraid of insulting Kageyama or making him feel like Hinata is poking fun again, Hinata doesn’t know how to ask… well, anything at all, really.

And… no. No, that’s not entirely right. Hinata _did_ ask a question here or there, but Kageyama always managed to duck it or change the subject. So Hinata still doesn’t know what he does for a living, whether he goes to school or even where Kageyama lived before. Hinata got the hint, and it somewhat curbed his appetite for obtaining information. Besides, Hinata just likes being around him. And in time, Kageyama’s story will unravel. Who is Hinata to needle his life out of him if he isn’t ready? Shit, maybe Kageyama is a time traveler and is waiting for the perfect moment to break the news. It doesn’t matter. Hinata likes him and wants to keep him around as long as possible. And if Kageyama is a fan of _Star Wars_ , Hinata thinks that’s as good of an excuse as any to talk the guy’s ear off for as long as he allows.

Luckily, Kageyama doesn’t seem to mind. He even offers his own thoughts on the film, though his seem to be a little more sophisticated and technical, lauding the visual effects and camera angles, using words like _juxtaposition_ and calling attention to things that Hinata never gave a second thought to. Things like ‘lighting choice’. Which is news to Hinata, who thought lighting was a thing that happened. Oh well. Hinata has good points, too! Though his are mostly composed of long strings of noises and reenactments of sound effects, they’re still just as valuable of a critique, he thinks.

Which is what he’s offering now, while Kageyama loads up the machine – a babbling stream of his favorite moments that might just be an entire re-telling of the first half of the movie.  

“And when the millennium falcon blasts into hyperdrive and the screen goes all _gwaahh_ and the lights are all crazy it’s so _cool_ but then they have to ruin everything by blowing up Alderaan—”

“What do you mean ruin everything?” Kageyama scoffs. “That’s one of the biggest plot points in the movie, idiot.”

“Yeah but Vader got what he wanted so why—”

“Because he’s pure evil, dumbass, that’s the whole point. Besides, Leia lied about being a peaceful diplomat, so why wouldn’t she have lied about Alderaan being a civilian planet?”

Hinata curls his lip. “You just contradicted yourself! You think that Vader did was justified!?”

“No, I’m just pointing out _nuance_ which you clearly don’t understand,” Kageyama rolls his eyes, but Hinata can see a small smile curled into his cheek.

“Let me tell you about _nuance_ ,” Hinata says, mockingly and sticking his hands to his hips, “in episode one, Anakin—” Hinata snaps his mouth shut. Shit. Maybe Kageyama hasn’t seen the new ones. He squeaks when Kageyama’s head snaps over and he hops back, striking a karate pose.

“What’s episode one?” Kageyama asks, eyes glittering.

“Ah, um, n-nothing!” Hinata stammers, nervously wringing his hands as evades Kageyama’s stare, “I was just uh… thinking about… um… Star Trek, not—” Hinata stops again, his own gaze zeroing in on a spot on Kageyama’s chest right as the man rolls his eyes again and turns to hit the start button on the machine. Hinata blinks at the small stain on the otherwise clean t-shirt. It looks similar in color to what was on the sheets the first night Kageyama came in. What did he say it was? Oh. Right. “You’ve got some cran-apple on your shirt there.”

Kageyama turns and gives him the blankest stare to date.

“There!” Hinata jabs a finger at the man’s chest. “A spot, stupid.”

Kageyama looks down, understanding. “Oh,” he says.

“We should have a stain-stick or something else that would work in—" but before Hinata can finish, Kageyama tugs his shirt off and lifts the lid of the machine, tossing it into the soapy water.

Hinata blanches, sputtering and stammering and flailing his hands before he can wrangle his mouth to form words, “y-you can’t just—you have to—what is wrong with you!?” he cries, making his hands into a visor to shield himself from the insanity that is Kageyama’s bare chest and abdomen. “You have to wear a shirt in here!”

“Oh… yeah…” he hears Kageyama say slowly.

“ _Oh yeah_!?” Hinata drops his hands, daring to try to look the man in the face and not shamelessly ogle the shit out of the pale, broad expanse of trim muscle and smooth flesh that just might literally be what Hinata’s dreams are made of. “Did you forget or something!?”

“I… guess I did,” Kageyama admits, his arms hanging limply at his sides as he glances at the washing machine.

Hinata heedlessly drops his eyes to Kageyama’s chest and drags his bottom lip through his teeth. God. _God_. Turning on his heel, Hinata slaps his hands to his steaming face, “stay there!” he shouts over his shoulder as he stomps down the aisle, adding, “And don’t take your pants off while I’m gone!”

He rounds the last machine and ducks behind it, slamming a hand over his heart.

Hinata doesn’t care what kind of time traveling space man or whatever Kageyama is, there is no way someone just _forgets_ not to get naked in a public place. That shit was intentional. That shit was _planned._ That shit was—

Hinata peeks around the corner.

“I can see you," Kageyama says.

Hinata squeals and falls back behind the washer, scurrying away to the front counter on his hands and knees. He finds the plastic bin labeled “lost and found” beneath the register, containing various items of clothing all left behind in the machines. Most of which are loose socks, but there are several shirts of all sizes and colors and even a couple pairs of pants.

All freshly laundered, of course.

“Dammit. _Dammit,”_ Hinata mutters, his heart threatening to slam its way out of his chest as he digs. He should have just crawled out the door. Who _does that!?_ Maybe there really is no mystery to Kageyama at all and he’s just a fucking lunatic. That cut torso still hangs so clear and vibrant in his mind that he knows he’ll be getting little sleep that night. Or morning. Whatever. He won’t be sleeping anytime soon, is the point.

The shirt Hinata finally pulls out of the bin is black, long-sleeved, and Hinata’s brain dares to remind him that it would hide Kageyama’s gorgeous arms, so he climbs to his feet and aims a kick at the box that just knocks it over. He grits his teeth and stomps his way back to the washers, utterly mortified as he approaches a calm as shit Kageyama, leaned back against the machine with his arms crossed over his perfect chest.

“Here,” Hinata grinds out, thrusting the shirt at Kageyama and looking pointedly away. When Kageyama doesn’t take the shirt Hinata chances a peek back at him.

Blue eyes blink slowly. “So,” the man says, “do I take my pants off now, or what?”

“What!?” Hinata pulls the shirt back, clutching it to his own chest like a damsel who was just walked in on in the midst of changing.

“You said not to take my pants off while you’re gone,” Kageyama reminds him, stepping forward. “Implying that—”

“I know what I said!” Hinata cries. “T-that’s not—I didn’t—”

But a flicker of a smirk on the man’s pretty lips quiets Hinata immediately.

Kageyama is playing with him.

“You’re an asshole,” Hinata flings the shirt into Kageyama’s face. He laughs from behind it. “I didn’t know you were so funny,” Hinata says dryly, despite the smile breaking through the humiliation.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Kageyama says as he tugs the new shirt on over his head.

“About you, or…” Hinata licks his lips as he watches Kageyama’s abs disappear beneath the black fabric, his voice quiets to a whisper, “in general.”

Kageyama just shrugs.

Hinata huffs out a breath. “Looks good on you,” he says of Kageyama’s new shirt. “Fits, at least. So are we finishing the movie?”

Kageyama nods, following Hinata down the row of washers.

Again, the man buys two milks from the vending machine and gives one to Hinata before they settle in for the movie.

“You ready?” Hinata asks, the cursor hovering on the ‘play’ button.

“You sure you don’t want me to take my pants off?” Kageyama smirks while he opens his milk, his face splitting to a grin when Hinata starts to splutter again.

“ _Guh_ , just watch the movie!” Hinata finally snaps, his face glowing so red hot he expects the automatic sprinkling system to kick in. Instead, the chilled bottle of his milk smushes into his face and he squawks, swiping at the smear of condensation left in the wake.

“Looked like you needed some help,” the man says, setting the bottle back down when Hinata shoots him a glare.

Kageyama is in rare form tonight; which, actually, makes Hinata’s stomach dance with more than just butterflies. This means that Kageyama is getting comfortable with him.

Hinata turns his attention back to the movie while a wavering smile flickers onto his face. He thinks he likes this playful, smirking version of the man. It’s nice.

And then Kageyama reaches over, ruffling Hinata’s hair before dragging his stool up characteristically close, folding his arms on the counter. Hinata does the same, intentionally jabbing his elbow against the other’s. Kageyama does it back.

 _Yeah_ , _its nice_ , Hinata thinks as his mind starts to swim with that heavy, sedating warmth. He can’t help lean into the cause of it – letting it pull him in.

 _Like a moth to the flame,_ he thinks.

Only later will he discover just how accurate that analogy is.

* * *

 

Kageyama is different the following night.

No… not _different._

Because Hinata had seen him this way before. On the first night they met.

Most often, Kageyama’s eyes _gleamed_ ; glimmering like a dark sea and sending Hinata adrift beneath the stars. Or at least beneath the glare of sterile fluorescence. Hinata realized right away that Kageyama is _pretty._ Cheekbones high but soft, almost feminine, yet his presence oozes masculinity and his voice is so deep and rich it resonates in Hinata’s core. He’s thin and impossibly graceful, fluid and quick and muscled like something out of the pages of those male fashion magazines that Hinata… um… _discovered_ himself to in his early teen years.

But now, the man’s gorgeous face is gaunt and sallow, and any other word that Hinata has heard people use to describe a sick person. His eyes are close to lifeless; dark blue turned almost black. He greets Hinata with barely a nod when he wanders in.

“Hey… are you okay?” Hinata asks nervously after following Kageyama to the machines. “You seem kinda—“

“I’m fine.” Kageyama’s voice rumbles low in his throat as he loads up the top-loader. But it’s strange. Sluggish and unnatural the way he drops the items in. Hinata fidgets behind him, shooing away thoughts of drug use. That just doesn’t seem to fit.

He wets his dry lips before asking, “a-are you sick? I can wash those for you if you want, you know, if you wanted to sit down.”

There’s no response, and Kageyama continues to slowly transfer items from the basket.

“Technically this is a full service laundry!” Hinata presses. “So I could do everything for you and you could pick it up tomorrow if you wanted to go home! I’m not working tomorrow night, but you can come get it during—“

“I said I’m fine, Hinata,” Kageyama interrupts slowly. Quietly.

He’s not. Hinata knows he’s not. “Okay… well,” he mutters, “don’t feel like you have to stay. That's all I'm saying.”

Hinata feels those eyes on him before it even registers that Kageyama has turned to face him; the hairs on the back of his neck prick up and he jumps backwards before their eyes meet. His breath catches when they do.

Dead-eyed or not, Kageyama’s gaze pierces Hinata to the core and sends a hot shiver rippling up his spine; a warm haze fizzes into the edges of Hinata’s vision and he throws his arms around himself as if cold despite the surge of heat flooding his stomach, reaching down to stir his cock with sudden arousal.

Hinata releases a shaky breath that bears the quality of a moan while his eyes grapple and blink to regain focus, and he flings an arm out to the side to catch himself on the washing machine when he feels his legs wobble.

It takes only a second for Hinata to steady himself and a quick head shake clears the fog, but the fire in his gut continues to kindle, spreading up and out into his limbs, throbbing down _down_ between his legs.

“Hey… are you alright?” Kageyama asks, but the question almost seems to originate inside Hinata’s own head, echoey and split in its tone. Dark brows are knit together when Kageyama comes back into focus, hesitation in his expression, and Hinata can see that the man has taken a step forward, hand in the midst of raising as if reaching for him.

“Y-yeah.” The word rolls off his tongue, heavy and thick. He turns to plant his hands against the top of the machine beside him, ripping his eyes from Kageyama in a way that almost physically pains him. He swallows hard enough to hear it. “I just got… dizzy for some reason.” He bears the urge to fold forward or press his hips to the cool side of the washer – that would look weird.  

But he quickly manages to get his breathing back in order; his lust-haze diminishes to the levels typical of when he’s around this man and his hardening cock settles.

Hinata blows out a breath, straightening up and turning back to Kageyama. “That was weird,” he says, voice still a little shaky. He self-consciously tugs his t-shirt down in front of his hips, just to be safe.

“Maybe you’re the one who should sit down,” Kageyama suggests lowly, his dark eyes lingering with intensity on Hinata’s face and threatening to revive whatever little event just took place. “You look really… red.”

“Would you stop telling me that?” Hinata hisses, balling his fists at his sides. “I can feel it, okay? God.”

Kageyama looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. Hinata’s eyes drop to the man’s mouth and he watches his tongue lick at his bottom lip before the plump flesh pulled through his teeth. That swell of heat fills Hinata’s chest again and cuts his breath short; but this time, Kageyama jerks his eyes away and upends the basket, spilling the remaining contents into the machine and slamming the lid. He pushes past Hinata almost too quickly for him to react.

But he does.

“Hey!” Hinata yells, swinging around just in time to catch Kageyama at the elbow. An immediate, violent heat sears from Hinata’s fingertips and shoots up into his chest, radiating and pulsating through his veins and his knees buckle on the spot.

But when he doesn’t hit the ground, he works his eyes open, first one then the other, to find himself cradled in the man’s arms a foot above the tiled floor with those dark eyes, now bright with alarm, staring down at him.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Kageyama growls sharply, frantically searching Hinata’s eyes.

“I-I don’t know!” Hinata cries, throwing his hands over his face. “It’s like— _wah!”_ he yells when Kageyama puts him down jarringly.

The man gets to his feet, snatching his basket off the floor. “You shouldn’t touch me,” he grumbles.

Hinata pushes himself into a sitting position, his body almost trembling with the speed of his pulse. “W-what?” he asks up to the flustered man.

Kageyama says nothing further, just chews on his lip with his eyes pointed away, his own breathing clearly hitched in his chest.

“I don’t think _you_ should be saying that to _me_ ,” Hinata bites.

“What?” Kageyama snaps his head around.

Clicking his teeth and setting his jaw, Hinata climbs to is feet. He squares off in front of Kageyama, fists clenched and eyes narrow. “Ever since we met all you’ve done is… i-is…” Hinata falters, anxiously licking his lips.

“What?” Kageyama asks again, quieter this time.

But Hinata drops his shoulders, reaching to rub at the back of his neck. “Nothing,” he mumbles. “The offer still stands. I can finish washing those for you if you want to leave.”

The man hesitates, feet pointed towards the end of the aisle and he gives the exit a look. But then he sighs. “We’ve got movies to watch.”

Hinata lights up, nodding quickly.

“You… probably shouldn’t be left alone, either,” Kageyama mumbles slowly, “you might pass out again.”

“I didn’t _pass out_ ,” Hinata gripes as they make their way to the front. He’s definitely not going to point out that whatever happened was Kageyama’s fault. “So, empire tonight?” he asks while Kageyama buys the milk. Kageyama doesn’t reply, so Hinata watches him shakily and slowly drop money into the vending machine, snatching at the first bottle that tumbles out and opening it to gulp down in seconds. Hinata frowns when the man leans back against the glass to take a deep, wavering breath, letting his eyes slip closed.

“Um…” Hinata presses his lips together, popping them open loudly. “What…” After another deep breath, Kageyama turns and dips back down to retrieve the other bottle, and drinks that one too before wiping his mouth dramatically with the back of his arm.

And then he buys two more.

These ones make it back to the counter.

“Did you say something?” Kageyama asks, handing a bottle to Hinata beneath a wary gaze.

“Yeah…” Hinata keeps his eyes on Kageyama’s pale face as the man opens his third bottle, “empire?”

Kageyama is much more interested in his beverage than the question and Hinata feels a little pang, worried that maybe Kageyama doesn’t give a shit about watching movies anymore and would rather just drink milk for the rest of his goddamn life but suddenly he gasps and almost chokes. “Empire!?” he coughs out, vacant eyes all wide. “As in—“ _cough_ “—empire strikes back!?” _cough_ _cough_ “—you have that!?”

“I have a lot of things, we’ve been over this.” Hinata smiles, gooey at the man’s excitement. “Have you seen it?”

Kageyama shakes his head the best he can while sipping his drink. “No it came out after…” he pauses, swallowing and lowering the bottle. “No. I haven’t.”

“Good!” Hinata chirps, wiggling his fingers before typing his way over to Netflix. “This one is my favorite.”

“How many more are there?” Kageyama’s voice drops to an awed whisper and he slides the stool closer – not at close as usual, and Hinata squirms at the disappointment worming through his chest, recalling the man’s words: _you shouldn’t touch me._

Maybe he really is sick.

“Well…” Hinata straightens up to answer Kageyama’s question, counting off on his fingers. “Counting the first one and this, there are… one, two, three…” when he gets to seven, a big hand folds over his digits, stoking the coals in his stomach to a steady flame. Kageyama’s other hand goes to his own mouth, shushing Hinata silently with a slow head shake and a finger to his lips.

“Okay, just… stop,” he breathes. Hinata swallows thickly while the hairs on the back of his neck prick up again, his eyes glued to where Kageyama’s hand dwarfs his own. “That’s… too much.”

Hinata whole-heartedly agrees.

Because now it’s been too many silent seconds with Kageyama just touching his hand. Dark eyes blinking away from Hinata’s stunned face to instead watch the way a long finger traces down one of Hinata’s own, across the creases of his palm, the man’s gaze almost lost in the offering of featherlight touches across Hinata’s rapidly heating skin. His blood simmers beneath the ghosting trail as Kageyama traces some hidden line down his wrist, down, down, further over the white, sensitive skin of his arm, licking like dizzying fire deep down inside him.

A fire that matches the blaze in Kageyama’s eyes when they flick back up to him, the power of them parting Hinata’s lips, the pull listing Hinata in closer, lidding his eyes and fluttering his heart faster and faster and faster—

“Hinata…”

Hinata whines, hypnotized by the slide of a tongue over the man’s lips that sends a ripple of need coursing through his body and twitching his cock in his jeans—

“Are you… “

“What?” Hinata breathes out tremulously as the man leans in closer and closer. “A-am I What?”

“…going to drink that?”

Hinata jerks back. “Huh!?”

“Your milk,” Kageyama says flatly, licking his lips again.

Hinata blinks. He blinks again.

What the actual fuck.

“Ah, um, n-no. You can… have it.” He frowns when Kageyama releases his wrist and snaps an arm past him, cracking the lid of the bottle and drinking it quickly – almost rabidly. Brown eyes watch the man’s throat work around each swallow, his brain humming with the hangover of the broken spell.

No, really, what the actual fuck. What’s _happening_ to him?

Kageyama finishes his drink with a quiet gasp, his eyes still holding a touch of flame when they lazily slide back to the laptop screen. “What are you waiting for? Hit play, already.”

Hinata cocks his head – more like his neck just loosens, dropping his head towards his shoulder in confusion as he studies the man beside him. Is he really that oblivious? Is he just toying with Hinata again? Hinata has so many questions and without asking he’s definitely not going to get any answers, but what the fuck is he even supposed to ask? Does Kageyama know that Hinata is attracted to him so that’s why he’s—

“What… are you…” Hinata breathes.

There’s nothing lazy about the smoldering eyes that snap over to Hinata, thudding his heart in his throat and making his insides quiver, before the rest of Kageyama’s face follows.

“Nothing,” Hinata says quickly; answering a question that wasn’t asked. “Yeah, l-lets watch! We’ve got a lot to go through, right? I’ve never met anyone who loved the first movie and hasn’t seen any others.”

“Yeah… well,” Kageyama drawls keeping his eyes on Hinata. “Nice to meet you.”

Hinata hiccups in a breath. “I didn’t mean to imply you have to watch them all with me!” he says, waving his hands as the yellow font crawls up the screen and the triumphant music plays. “I just meant—”

“Stop saying things like that,” Kageyama mumbles, stuffing a cool palm against the top of Hinata’s head and forcing him to face the screen. “Watch the movie.”

“’kay.” Hinata wiggles under the man’s hand, shivering a little when dull nails scrape gently against his scalp. Kageyama keeps it there.

And when an imperial probe robot races towards Hoth, Kageyama lets his hand fall down the back of Hinata’s neck, then his back, sweeping a tremor up his spine before resting on the back edge of Hinata’s stool as a Tauntaun gallops across a snowfield.

Luke Skywalker removes his goggles when Kageyama leans in closer.

Shit.

Hinata can barely focus on the movie with Kageyama hovering so close to him – ‘ _you shouldn’t touch me’_ _my ass,_ Hinata thinks. And then he thinks about Kageyama’s hand being oh so near his ass.

His fingers.

His long, _long_ fingers.

Hinata whimpers to himself.

But Hinata does, eventually, lose himself to the action of the movie – it really is his favorite one, after all – and it’s only when he giggles at the part when Wedge and Janson take down the AT-AT with their snowspeeder that Hinata feels warm breath rustle his hair.

“Mm… what?” Kageyama hums against the shell of Hinata’s ear. “What’s funny?”

Hinata’s lips open in a little gasp and he turns his head quickly, startled, and finds himself eye to eye with the other man – closer than ever before. So close he can feel that warm breath bleeding over his cheeks. Against his parted lips. “W-what?” he stammers. It’s barely a word.

“You laughed,” the man murmurs, eyes following the curve of Hinata’s mouth, “why?”

“T-the,” Hinata chokes down a swallow, “the way it… fell,” the drowsiness hits like a bolt of lightning, sudden and unyielding, swirling up his mind with heavy tendrils of pearly smoke when he feels the press of a palm at his hip, “weren’t… you watching?” he continues to try to speak over the encumbrance of his tongue, thick and lagging in his mouth.

The man slowly shakes his head, the glow of his eyes turning molten as Hinata becomes dangerously aware of the rapid lift of his own chest, the dragging huff of breath beating from his throat and panting over his lips. He had fallen back so quickly into this state it was as if his body were waiting – begging for it to return.

“I wasn’t watching that,” Kageyama breathes again; the hand at Hinata’s hip curls over it, a thumb finding the skin of his back right above the waistband of his jeans and Hinata grits his teeth, hissing in air through them. The pad of the man’s thumb slips over a sliver of his skin but Hinata feels it _everywhere_.

“You… sh-should.” Hinata grapples for lucidity while dreading the thought of its return. But he’s been here before. Struck by some black magic and left reeling and confused after. But _god_ let him just drown in this. This drunken haze and oh yes, god _god_ yes the scent of the man that drips with saccharine allure, honey sweet and thick like the reddest, deepest blood.

But no – no, this is different, Hinata realizes with a single, resilient synapse still firing. This time Hinata isn’t the only one affected but this only serves to fuel the lust thrumming through him – Kageyama’s own breath is coming quick, warm against Hinata’s lips and harsh in his ears as his grip on Hinata’s hip tightens, his eyes glowing with liquid fire and _oh,_ how Hinata thirsts to burn—

He bleats out a moan when a finger slides up beneath his chin, tilting his face up as ragged breath billows across his parted lips and Hinata’s hands reach blindly, pawing at the man’s chest and winding into his shirt as his eyes fall shut—

_“Shit—”_

The jarring word snaps Hinata’s eyes open before the screech of the stool across the floor assaults his ears, but possibly the most alarming part of it is Kageyama’s wide, horror-stricken eyes and the shuddering draw of breath bobbing his chest where he stands with his hands planted against the counter, his hands blanched and shaking with the force of pressing against the surface.

“Kage—wait—” Hinata jumps to his feet in a panic, legs still shaky when he reaches for the man—

“ ** _Don’t._** ”

The sub-vocal growl halts Hinata’s breath and sends a chill whipping up his spine.

“I-I need to go.” Kageyama’s long legs quickly take him from behind the counter to in front of it and to the exit with Hinata scrambling after him.

“Please! Kageyama—”

 _“ **Don’t follow me**_ **. _”_** Kageyama snarls again from the door and Hinata throws his hands over his ears at the inhuman timbre, the man’s voice seeming to split into a warbling, bone-chilling dissonance. But—

“Kageyama!” Hinata pleads again, lowering his trembling hands as the bell jingles, “no, no wait, please!” he cries, dashing to the door. He flings it all the way open and stumbles out onto the sidewalk, frantically looking up and down the street.

But Kageyama is already gone. Disappeared into the night.

* * *

 

Hinata has two nights off before returning to work, and Kageyama’s abandoned clothes are still on a little table behind the counter, neatly folded in the basket he left behind as well.

It took several drinks and more than a couple hours of woe, babbling at Kenma about the strange man for Hinata to shake off the freshness of the bizarre events. Though when he tried explaining the effect Kageyama had over him, Hinata found he was at a loss for words, unable to form the sensations into speech. “Horny” and “ _gwaahh”_ only got him so far, and Kenma was all shoulders when he said things like ‘so you want to fuck him’.

Well. Yeah.

But no. Kenma just didn’t get it.

And Hinata isn’t likely to get any answers or resolution with how Kageyama fled, so he tries to ignore the ache in his chest as he goes about his day.

He knows it will take more than a few drinks to cure that.

And back at the counter, back on his stool as dead time approaches, alone, Hinata drops his head into his folded arms, sighing loudly.

Maybe he should quit. Really. What are the odds that Kageyama will come back?

Pfft. Odds. _Odds_.

‘Odds’ suggest there’s actually a chance.

The odds are exactly zero.

He has nothing to look forward to, now.

Without anyone to talk to, and with the burn of rejection flaring back up every time Hinata tries to drag his laptop out of his bag, he has nothing to do except putter around aimlessly, straightening the coffee stuff or scribbling on a page in one of the coloring books. He stuffs the whole thing in the garbage after making the dog's eyes blue.

Several times during his shift he finds himself peeking over at the basket or cleaning near it or edging his stool closer to where he left the clothes after he finished washing them that night. He finally just gives in and stands over them, running a hand over the soft, dark blue hoodie folded on top. And, like, he works at a laundry, for fucks sake. He knows how stupid it is to think that maybe…

His eyes shift around cautiously. He can’t help but wonder—

His face is buried deep into the cottony garment a second later. He breathes deeply, pressing the fabric to his face.

Of course the only customer in the building chooses that moment to need change.

With his blush cooling on his cheeks, he wanders back to the basket, lifting the hoodie again to his nose.

It still smells like him. Its faint, but it’s there. Hinata will never forget that scent.

And his body won’t, either.  

A rolling heat takes him, slow and soft, warming him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and he sighs out an involuntary moan. And yeah, he does exactly what you’d expect after he gets his fill – he tugs the sweatshirt on over his head, reveling in the largeness of it. Flapping the sleeves just once like a baby bird.

He spends the rest of his shift lazing about on his stool with his arms draped over the counter, dropping his face into the over-sized sleeves and breathing deeply, letting the scent take him back to a few nights prior. His knees press together hard when his mind drifts, imagining the night he could have had with the man had he not run out on him. But he takes things just a bit too far and has to drop a hand between his legs to grant him a whisper of relief.

It takes several minutes of hard concentration for his aching erection to calm down.

Hinata’s shift finally comes to an end and he does one last check of the machines for forgotten clothing and switches off all the lights before begrudgingly pulling the hoodie over his head and carefully folding to place it back into the basket, petting it affectionately before turning away. He supposes that’s as close as he’ll come to hoping that the man will return.

The odds are zero. He knows. He knows the fucking odds.

As he jingles the bell and steps into the night, he wonders how long he’ll let the basket sit there before dumping the contents into the lost and found.

The thought pulls at his chest, and he frowns as he locks the door.

But then he blinks, frowning for a different reason when he slips the key out of the lock. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end with the rustle of wind. There’s something in the air.

But he shrugs it off.

A few steps take him from the door and to the edge of the old brick building where he feels it again. He pauses. Brows furrow and his bag slips from his shoulder. It hits the ground with a thud.

He can barely get a sound out before he’s slammed into the wall.

His breath rushes out of him as he’s forced to the bricks from behind – so sudden it feels surreal. An impossible strength grips his wrists and presses his hands hard against the gritty façade and a solid form blankets the whole of his back, crushing him to the wall.

Hinata’s body floods with the chill of white hot adrenaline and he drops his jaw to scream, his cheek scraping against the rough brickface, but all that comes out of him is a high-pitched squeak of terror—

_“Don’t. Move.”_

The deep rumbling command is breathed into Hinata’s ear, fed into the very depth of his soul. He freezes. His will to struggle violently ripped from him as his mind flickers like a broken bulb.

He’s turned, then, bodily, rolled against the hard brick to instead have his back shoved against the grating wall, wrists still ensnared beside his face so tightly he can feel the panicked flutter of his pulse beating against the man’s palms. The dark figure looms, face cast in the darkest shadow from the hood of his black sweatshirt as he dips forward; the gasp Hinata pulls in draws with it the heady scent of his attacker—

Pure, mind-melting intoxication shivers Hinata from the inside out. His flesh marbles with goosebumps in spite of the blazing heat scorching through him and he breathes in again, hard, his exhale snagging sharply in his throat when the man presses into him – close enough to feel his own hammering heart mirrored in strength by the other’s – and a strong, solid thigh pushes in between his legs. Pinning him. Trapping him from all angles.

Helpless.

Warm breath fans out over Hinata’s lips as the man leans in close, grazing the tip of his nose over Hinata’s burning cheek, nudging up into his hairline; a shuddering inhale is drawn in right by his ear and let out again with the same breaking tremble – the broad chest shakes with it, hitching the breath into a pant as the man continues to trace a line down the line of Hinata’s jaw with his nose. Tingling fire is left in the wake and Hinata’s mind swims as his body rouses in response to the sensations, his stomach knotting and folding with a rabid, searing heat. He moans, unthinkingly,

There’s a growl in response – a tightening of fingers around his wrists as the man slams his hands back against the wall, startling a sharp gasp out of Hinata before he feels humid lips ghosting down the side of his neck, the rapidity of his own breath increasing with every passing second. The feathery brush of the man’s mouth rolls Hinata’s eyes in his head, stirring up a weak, unbidden rocking of his hips and a wordless mewl of desire from his throat.

The man exhales harshly, almost scolding, breath gusting hot over Hinata’s thrumming pulse but the thick mass pressing hard and low against Hinata’s belly betrays the reprimand; blood rushes and aching flesh swells, beating Hinata’s cock so hard in his pants his hips jerk, seeking the warmth and friction of the thigh planted between his legs that remains just out of reach—

A rough, menacing growl finds his ear and Hinata slams his eyes shut, forcing his hips to still and trembling uncontrollably between his captor and the wall as drop after slick drop leaks from his cock and into his briefs. The man groans hotly, brushing his lips over Hinata’s ear again and then dipping lower, finding his pulse and lingering there as a rattling quality takes to his breath, rasping it faster in and out of his chest.

And then Hinata feels teeth.

Light. Grazing. Dragging slowly across the sensitive front of his throat, skimming over his adam’s apple as it quivers with a hard swallow and then down, trailing the sloping join of his shoulder and fanning the raging inferno inside him; his tongue pants against his lip and he lolls his head to the side, offering up more of himself for the taking which the man eagerly accepts, dragging his teeth up Hinata’s neck, tracing the pumping blood racing beneath his skin.

Every place the man has touched with his mouth blooms with hot petals of pleasure, whipping him into such a froth of lust and need his brain only works in slivers at a time—

 _“M-more—”_ Hinata’s voice trembles out of him, barely a whisper, “ _Kageya—ah!—”_

A feral, inhuman snarl rips a startled cry from Hinata’s throat and teeth click beside his ear before the man stuffs his nose into Hinata’s hair, inhaling deeply with serrated breath. He gasps out – his heaving chest losing its steady rhythm and Hinata feels him throb against his belly, hot and hard and _big_ in a way that buckles Hinata’s knees but the press of the man’s solid body holds him there against the wall, fiery lips burning a trail to a pulse so wild it’s all Hinata can hear, the increasing pressure of of teeth all he can feel until one final gust of breath bleeds out over his delicate flesh and then—

_“ **Dumbass.** ”_

The low rumble of a word seems to echo through the dark street as Hinata crumples to the ground, gulping in breath after frantic breath as though finally bursting from dark, watery depths. He slams a hand over his heart and wide eyes wildly scan the area, but the man has vanished. Hinata is alone.

A suspended moment hangs, and then—

 _“Mmh!”_ Hinata stuffs a trembling hand between his legs, palming the hard, straining bulge trapped in his tight jeans. _“_ Shit… _shit—”_ he hisses, squeezing himself before rolling onto his hands and knees, shaky hands searching for the keys he dropped during the attack. He finds them, fumbling them desperately before using the handle on the outside of the door to haul himself up. He jams the key into the lock, gripping himself with his other hand as he wrenches the door open.

He barely hears that fucking jingle as the door shuts behind him over the sound of his labored breathing as his stiff, bumbling fingers struggle to undo his pants; he actually cries out when he succeeds in freeing his cock, letting it smack heavily into his palm when he shoves his pants down past his hips and then collapses forward over the counter. His fingers tighten around his ridged flesh and his movements are instantly quick as he pumps himself like a man possessed, jerking himself fast and hard as he gasps against his forearm, drool running obscenely down his lip.

Only a few seconds of this has him shooting uncontrollably all over the shiny, laminate floor, wheezing raggedly with every erratic jerk of his hips as he empties himself completely.

It takes almost five times as long to come back to the world – which, admittedly, still isn’t very long – but he finally pushes himself up with wobbly arms, smearing a mess over the counter top with a sticky hand (he has to clean shit up anyway so who cares). He uses the clean one to scrub down his face, to wipe the drool from his lip.

And blinking, then, into the dark void of the vacant laundromat where the pale moonlight coming from the window can’t quite reach, a smile begins to form on his face.

 _Odds?_  he thinks as burbling excitement takes him.

“Never tell me the odds.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can forgive me for ending the chap with a star wars quote, please come cackle with me on tumblr :D @majesticartax
> 
> and please feel free to tell me who/what you think Kageyama is in the comments <3 but at this point it's probably obvious.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama's secret is finally revealed <3 But now there may be even more questions. Don't worry, I'll answer them all eventually.
> 
> **September 5, 2018 UPDATE** This chapter is now fixed and complete! Please enjoy.
> 
> <3

For the next several nights, Hinata lingers.

He lingers at the security monitor in the office, dawdling as he retrieves change boxes or garbage bags and keeping one eye on the screen at all times. Either that or he’s pulling some spin move to catch any shadows lurking in the feed off guard. But any visible shadows are far from lurking and more often than not, aren’t even shadows. He’s got an overly active wishful imagination.

He lingers outside the laundromat at close, after the doors are locked and the streets are quiet – too late for even the most dedicated night owls, too early for the early-rising workaholics. Too late and too early for busses and trains. Too early for the sun.

It’s the dead time of the city. Merging seamlessly with the dead time of his own, when the laundromat is quiet, empty, and dull.

But, now, this dead time is precisely when Hinata feels the most alive.

It has been about two weeks since the attack; and no, Hinata certainly doesn’t feel like he was _attacked_ (though his dick might feel somewhat different, as he’s played the event over and over and _over_ again in his head; with the fresh sensations of Kageyama’s lips and teeth at his throat, his cock has barely gotten a moment’s peace from his restless hands since the most erotic night of his life – and that’s really saying something you know! He had a bit of a licentious streak his first couple years of college, and while those times may have been a bit sluttier than erotic, per say, and far _far_ behind him, he’s no stranger to sexual pleasure. And, shit, Kageyama didn’t even kiss him and he _still_ feels like he was sucked fucked and played like some horny fiddle), and the thrill of it still has him all charged up, tingling from head to toe in the wispy chill of the early-autumn air as he lingers, fidgeting in front of the dark, plate-glass window and letting his mind stray to the most far off places, to the absurdly romantic, to the irrationally sensual; every night and ever-manically hopeful that Kageyama will swoop down on him again and just…

Just…

See, that’s the thing.

Hinata doesn’t even _know_. He has no idea what the hell Kageyama’s intentions were or what he even did to him that night – least of all why. But, fuck, he wants it again so goddamn badly he fucking _lingers_ – pride and dignity be damned. But there’s only so many times he can pretend to have forgotten something back inside the laundromat and only so many shoelaces he can feign need tying and only _so_ many extra minutes he can putter around acting as exceedingly vulnerable as possible—

“Oooops~ dropped my keys!” He calls loudly one night to the empty street. “Sure hope nothing _descends_ on me while I’m all _bent over_ …”

Don’t worry – he’s plenty embarrassed for himself after that. But it doesn’t stop him from tossing his keys onto the ground a couple more times as he makes his way down the street, taking care to waggle his butt in the air an extra little bit when he retrieves them.

Because whatever that was, whatever Kageyama did to his body – to his fucking _soul –_ felt so spectacularly, immeasurably, fantastically, and immaculately _dangerous_ that Hinata is willing to do almost anything to fall prey again. His heart has never beat with such excitement and his skin had never flushed with such need. The impression the man left is a strong one, and Hinata doubts that he’ll ever reform around the deep etchings.

Not that he wants to.

And even though Kageyama hasn’t yet reappeared, that burning anticipation never loses even an ounce of power. In fact, his longing only grows.

Kageyama will come back. He knows it. He can _feel_ it in his bones – like some kind of sixth sense. But until then, Hinata will revel in the delicious agony of waiting. He once read “pleasure is found first in anticipation” on a bottle of stain remover, and goddamn do those oddly-placed words ring so true.

He dreamt of excitement. And _boy_ did he get it. It’s like some type of fairy tale, after all. Kageyama is here to rescue him from his high tower of boredom and steal him away from the evil witch Ennui. Redundant or not, Hinata is more than willing for his prince to return and…

Well, Hinata might not be some damsel in distress, but having Kageyama fuck the life back into him sounds like a happy ending to him.

So, yeah. He got his excitement. Excitement… and the several articles of clothing the source of that excitement left behind.

The first few days, he makes sure only to wear Kageyama’s hoodie once the last of the customers filter out; swaddling himself in over-sized comfort and warmth while he cleans out the lint traps and empties the waste baskets makes the tedium _completely_ worthwhile.

But Hinata is quick to realize that the customers are none the wiser to the fact that the sweatshirt doesn’t belong to him, and that his choice of attire is actually pretty creepy and not just utterly adorable (he knows what he looks like), and soon he can’t get to work fast enough to dash behind the counter and tug the thing on over his head. He even volunteers to take shifts on his nights off, just for the luxury of wearing that goddamn hoodie.

Which is… insane, don’t you think?

He does too. And with it being absolute torture taking it off before he locks up every night, he can’t _believe_ it took him so long to figure out to just take it home with him.

What? It’s not like Kageyama is using it!

Hinata is putting it to much better use than if it were just sitting in on that table collecting dust (which it wouldn’t, because Hinata caringly threw a towel over the basket to prevent just that); instead of breaking out his fall jacket as the season begins to change, he lets the hoodie keep him warm on his walk to and from work. And after toweling off from his shower every night, he bundles up in it and nothing else before drifting off to sleep.

And damn, Hinata has never slept better nor woken hornier in his entire life with Kageyama’s scent wrapped around him; so every morning starts with pulling the collar up over his mouth and nose, breathing in deeply and humping into his mattress or fingering himself or frantically jerking off _._

So now, as he sits on his stool with his face buried into the sleeves as he pillows his head with his arms on the counter, daydreaming about big hands at his waist or his hair or oh _god_ between his legs, he takes a moment to think about how he should probably wash the hoodie that has shrouded him in an elevated state of arousal for weeks, but he’s too afraid of removing the perfume of the gods that’s still woven deeply into the fibers. Hinata knows that his own scent has likely taken up residence in the fabric despite the care he’s taken to limit that (he’s been careful not to get _himself_ on it. He’s only had to spot-clean it once, thanks to the first wet-dream he’s had since his mid-teens), and he wonders about Kageyama’s reaction to Hinata pretty much living in his clothes in his absence. Based on the throbbing erection pressed against Hinata’s belly that night, Kageyama probably wouldn’t be disgusted… maybe a little creeped out.

But who really knows what goes on in that Star Wars-loving milk-obsessed weirdo’s head. And it’s not like Hinata has been wearing _all_ his clothes. It would be a little different if he were caught parading around in the guy’s…

Hinata slowly lifts his head.   

In his…

_Oh._

He almost falls over in his haste to hop off the stool. He’s standing over the basket a second later, his eager hands lifting the towel so he can peek beneath it.

All these weeks, and only _now_ does he think about Kageyama’s underwear a mere five feet from where he’s been—

_“Still alive?”_

Hinata screams.

He spins around and takes a sharp step back from the soft words breathed against his ear and staggers into the table, effectively toppling the precious cargo onto the floor while his wild eyes land on an amused and regretfully familiar face.

“What the hell!?” Hinata shrieks, clutching his racing heart as the rude skank from weeks ago covers a toothy grin with her tacky manicured hand. She laughs, then, flipping her garbage-blonde hair before placing her hands onto her hips, cocking one of them as she looks him up and down.

Hinata isn’t a fan.

“What the hell,” he grumbles again as he drops to his knees, scooping the clothes back into the basket before climbing to his feet and tossing them onto the table. “You’re not supposed to be back here,” he tells the girl pointedly, folding his arms over his chest while his heart resumes a normal rhythm.

“Really,” she says, smirking, “I thought you had somewhat of an open-door policy.”

Hinata cocks a brow. “What does that mean? And what did you mean by _still alive?_ ”

But the girl just looks away and waves a hand, those cheap fake nails glimmering in the fluorescent lighting. “Nothing, nothing.”

“Did you need something?” Hinata frowns, warily eyeing the side of the girl’s face. Aside from the middle-aged woman who left a few minutes ago, Hinata didn’t think there was anyone in the laundromat, and he definitely would have noticed Flirty McHairdye slithering in. Maybe he had dozed off himself. “Your dryer broken again?”

Her lips stretch into another wide grin when her flashing eyes find his. Hinata shivers – and not in a good way. “What happened to that sterling customer service of yours?” she simpers, licking her lips. “Nice sweatshirt.”

Hinata drops his arms and unconsciously knots his hands into the hem of the baggy garment as another knot begins to twist up in his stomach. An uncomfortable flush spreads up his neck with the girl’s eyes on him, but he narrows his own eyes, nonetheless – who the hell does she think she is? And why does he feel so…

So…

Hinata shivers again.

“L-look,” he says, hating the way his voice shakes out of him, “if you don’t need anything, I’m going to have to ask you to leave this, um… area.”

The girl’s mouth twitches with something like humor and her eyes burn with an unmistakable heat, but all Hinata feels is a chill racing up his spine; there’s something very wrong with her. Something that sucks at the pit of his stomach – even apart from her awful hair and fake nails and push-up bra. “You’re cute,” she says sweetly, taking a step forward. Even apart from _that._

Hinata takes a step back, colliding with the table again and raising his palms forward in defense. “W-what are you doing!?” he gasps as she sidles up to him, planting a hand on the table on either side of his hips to cage him in. She doesn’t exactly tower over him, but she’s tall enough to where he has to crane his neck up to keep tabs on those blazing, malevolent eyes. Who the fuck wears heels to a laundromat?

“Shhh, relax,” the girl soothes. “You’re hardly my _type_ , sweetheart,” she finishes with an ugly sneer.

Hinata bristles.  “Well you’re not my type, either!”

“Yeah I…” the girl rolls her tongue in her cheek, dropping her eyes to the hoodie, “…noticed.”

“Oh, get off me,” Hinata shoves at the girl’s shoulders and slips out from in front of her. “What is this?” he demands, stepping a safe distance away and crossing his arms. “What do you want?”

The girl turns towards him and lets her arms hang limply at her sides. She shrugs. “Nothing,” she says flatly. “I’m just bored.”

“Bored?” Hinata curls his lip. “You don’t have anything better to do than bother me?”

Sighing, the girl runs her fingers through her hair. “I have a lot of time on my hands,” her lips quirk into a smile. “And you’re seriously really cute. Makes me want to torment you a little.”

Hinata swallows, abandoning the urge to curl his lip again. “Thought I wasn’t your type.”

“Not what I meant.”

A dark sense of foreboding creeps under Hinata’s skin as she walks closer.

“I’m honestly shocked,” she muses, raising a hand up towards Hinata’s face. He freezes in place, cold sweat dotting his forehead as knuckles slip softly over his cheek. “I Thought you were a goner for sure.”

Hinata blinks hard and leaps back and away from the sickening touch. “What the actual hell are you talking about!?” he cries, jabbing a finger into the witch’s face. “And if you touch me again with that claw I will bite it off!”

“Bite, huh?”

Hinata barely lets out a strangled cry before she’s on him again; tits practically shoved into his face and his back jammed painfully into the edge of the counter. His arms flail behind him, his hands gripping at the sharp edge to steady himself.

“ _I don’t think so,”_ she purrs into his ear. _“We can smell our own. And you’re nothing but a sheep in wolf’s clothing.”_

Hinata’s fingernails scratch against the laminate as he chokes on the thick, acrid scent of perfume swirling around him, stinging his nose and watering his eyes. Hinata grits his teeth. “Jesus, do _‘we’_ live in a fucking Perfume Hut? Get _off me!”_

She does, easily and with a laugh as she backs away.

“I swear to god,” Hinata growls, wrapping his arms around himself, “if you touch me again I’m calling the police! This is harassment!”

“Oh, lighten up,” the girl rolls her eyes, “I’m just playing with you.”

“W-well I don’t like this game!” Hinata sputters. “You need to leave!” His heart thuds hard in his chest – unpleasantly and erratically. He feels sick.

“I mean, seriously,” she cocks her head, “how are you _actually_ not dead yet? You have, like, no survival instinct at all.”

“What do you mean?” Hinata asks warily. “Why do you keep saying stuff like that?”

“You’ll call the police _if_ I touch you again? What if I just murder you the next time?”

Hinata blinks. “Do you plan to?”

“I wasn’t _planning_ on it, no.”

“Okay, well—“

“But seeing you cower like that…” she licks her lips, flashing a smile with far too many teeth, “got me kind of worked up, you know?”

Hinata gulps, knuckles turning white as he grips the counter behind him again. Should he run? Does this situation call for that? “I’m not _cowering,_ ” he spits.

She considers this, looking him up and down again. Then she snorts. “If you say so.” Then she flat out laughs. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Your boyfriend,” she says lowly. “Doesn’t he seem a little _off_?”

“He—Kage—he’s––” Hinata swallows, wincing at the sudden pang in his chest. “H-he’s not my boyfriend.” He finishes with a scowl. “Is that what this is about? You’re mad that he rejected you when you hit on him?”

“Oh, honey, I wasn’t hitting on him,” she giggles. “But you could say he rejected me.”

Hinata doesn’t understand. So he says,

“I don’t understand.”

She rolls her eyes so hard Hinata swears he can hear it. “Do I have to come right out and say it?” she asks sourly, cocking her hip and sticking a hand to it. “There’s _zero_ fun in that.”

“Listen, _ma’am_ ,” Hinata says, straightening up from the counter and relishing the way her face twists in insult, “you’re not making any sense, so I have to assume you’re either high or mentally ill, so—“

“Oh my _goood_ ,” she interrupts, pinching the bridge of her nose in what appears to be frustration. “You’re not listening to a single thing I’m saying.”

“Why would I!?” Hinata cries, throwing his hands up. “You come in here and—a-and assault me, talking about me being dead or whatever! You’re obviously some kind of lunatic!”

The girl sighs, her sharp, fiery eyes having lost some their spark, softening to somewhat of a light brown while they flick over his face – the color reminds him a bit of his own. And if Hinata didn’t know better, he’d say she looks almost sad; her too-big smile having swapped for lips quirked in quiet sympathy. Her entire demeanor has changed in all of two seconds. Hinata feels his stomach unclench.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, tiredly rubbing her eyes with her hands. “I don’t play this part so well, huh?”

Cocking his head, Hinata watches her settle beside him, leaning – almost sagging – against the counter. He blinks at her, licking his lips nervously and then shifting his eyes around the room.

“Part? What do you mean _part?_ ” Is he on some hidden camera show? Is this a prank?

“There’s always this… _idea_ of what we’re supposed to be, you know?” she continues. “And really, I’m just not into it. And, like, the semester just started, and no matter how many times I’ve gone through it, it’s still stressful! I don’t have time for all this...“ she gestures to the air around her, “ _menacing_.”

 _‘Confused’_ doesn’t even begin to nick the surface of what he’s feeling.

“I’m not… sure what you’re talking about, still,” Hinata admits, scratching at the back of his head, “but, um, I mean… if you need someone to talk to, or whatever…”

The girl turns her tired gaze to him and gives another sad half-smile. “You’re sweet,” she says. “Very stupid, but sweet.”

Hinata’s eye twitches, but he lets it go.

“I can see why…” she bites her lip, looking away. “Shit, I can’t just… like, _out_ him.”

A current of electricity zips through Hinata’s stomach. “You mean K-Kageyama?” his voice catches on the name. “It’s… ah, I-I mean, I sort of already… worked out that he’s… or, well, at least partially _seems_ to like men, so you don’t have to—”

“Not his sexuality, you idiot.” She immediately flips a hand back and forth. “Sorry, sorry.” She drops her gaze, then, hanging her head. For a long moment she just stands there, staring at the floor and chewing on the inside of her cheek, as if deep in thought.

Alright… maybe she isn’t totally hideous, Hinata thinks. In fact, she seems to be going through something and he’s starting to feel pretty bad for her. Assault and insults aside. Come to think of it, that’s kind of turning out to be his thing. Maybe they’ll become best friends.

There’s a sudden gust of an exhale and the girl steps in front of him, gripping him by the shoulders. He goes completely still, eyes wide.

“I need you to do something that might be difficult for you, alright?”

“U-um, okay?” Hinata says, nerves battling their way back into his stomach at the seriousness in her gaze.

“ _Think_ ,” she whispers, gently shaking Hinata. “Just think about him.”

 _I think about him constantly,_ he wants to say, feeling a warm flush darken his cheeks. But something tells him that’s not really what she means.

“The evidence is all there,” she ducks her head, bringing her face in closer, her voice to a hush, “don’t rule out any possibility. _Think_.”

Hinata stares at the crease in her brow, swallowing.

“I don’t… is he a criminal or something?”

The girl shakes her head. “It’s not nearly that simple.”

“Then what—”

“He likes you.”

Hinata sucks in a breath, his heart leaping up into his throat.

“And you like him, obviously.”

The warmth of adrenaline is coursing through him, heating his skin from the inside out. “H-he likes me?”

“Is that all you heard!?” She shakes him roughly, startling a yelp out of him. “Fucking, _listen_! You’re a good person, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I watched you with him and you’re really… kind. He just… he’s _different_.”

“Yeah, _that_ I noticed.”

“Not ‘different’ like you’re thinking, he…” the girl stalls, eyes darting up over Hinata’s shoulder to the window. “He wants to be on his own.”

Hinata cocks his head. “Like… single?”

The girl licks her lips, nervous when she looks at the clock on the wall. “No not… like that.”

“Then what do you mean?”

Her lips press into a hard line before she turns her attention back on him. “You feel things when you’re with him, right? Inside?” Her voice is quick, rushed. Almost frantic.

“Well, yeah—”

“And it’s like he doesn’t really belong here? Belong _now?”_

Hinata shifts his weight as discomfort worms its way beneath his ribs. “Um… yeah, that’s a good way to put it, but—”

“Have you ever seen him eat?”

Hinata scrunches his nose. “What?”

“Have. You ever. Seen him. _Eat.”_ She’s getting annoyed. Well, so the fuck is Hinata. Two sets of brows furrow, almost in competition.

“He drinks milk like it’s his job,” Hinata huffs. “But no, who eats at a laundromat at three in the morning?”

“Trust me,” she sneers, “this couldn’t be a more perfect setting for a meal.”

Hinata narrows his eyes. “Are you going to tell me he’s anorexic or something? Are you guys models? Actors? Is that what all this _we_ business is about?”

But the girl just shakes her head again, exasperated. Hinata feels the last thread of his patience snap.

“Then _what_!?” Hinata cries, shaking his way out of her grasp and stomping his foot. “What are you trying to say!? Who is he!? Better yet, who are _you?_ Am I supposed to believe that you’re worried about my wellbeing or something after you get all up in my business and tell me that you’ve been _watching_ me!? All because I’m this kind and good person!? You don’t know me at all! So just stop dancing around this issue and just fucking tell me whatever it is you want to say! Just _tell me—"_

A sharp, abrupt inhale chokes him when the girl darts forward. Her arms are alarmingly strong as she holds him tight to her chest; her lips burn when they press to his ear—

“ ** _He isn’t_ _human_**.”

There isn’t even a chance for those words to soak into his brain before the girl shoves away from him, hard, almost throwing Hinata backwards and driving the base of his spine into the sharp edge of the counter; blinding pain shoots through him, scattering the light in his eyes to pure white and forcing a high-pitched wail from his throat. He grits his teeth against the feeling, groaning as his vision returns.

“What the _fu—"_

But his voice dies in his throat when his eyes refocus on the girl. Color has drained from her face. Brown eyes blaze with unrest and teeth are bared in an audible hiss as she stares daggers over his shoulder.

And then all reality – all sound. All light. All of the world is sucked into a single, vivid point of consciousness centered on her mouth. Hinata blinks, but the image remains. Crystal clear and razor sharp.

As sharp as the two fangs glistening from behind her glossy lips.

There’s a rush in his ears. Time slows.

And then the earth tilts beneath his feet. Fragmented realization assaults him like shrapnel in a minefield of memories and Hinata reels. There’s sweat on his forehead and his neck and his palms. His heart is beating faster than ever.  

_‘What’s on those?’_

_‘Cranberry juice.’_

His stomach bottoms out.

_‘Your face is red.’_

_‘You shouldn’t touch me.’_

The room spins. His head swims. Oxygen thinning.

_‘Where are you from?’_

_‘Somewhere else.’_

Wait… No… he’s not. He _can’t_ be.

The power—

No.

—the dizziness—

No way.

—the _wanting—_

It’s not possible.

_‘It gets lonely here at night.’_

—the teeth at his throat—

_‘I’m new here.’_

—those eyes—

_‘What’s a wifi password?’_

—the teeth at his throat—

_‘Do you have a dog?’_

—the teeth at his throat—

_‘Friend?’_

—oh _god_ the fucking _teeth at his throat!_

_But…_

Hinata shakes his head sharply—

_But the…_

Blinks the static from his eyes—

_But he…_

He feels hot—

_Why…_

Too hot—

_Why did…_

The room is spinning—

_How can…_

Spinning—

_But the…_

Spinning—

_What about the…_

_‘Dumbass.’_

_“Milk_? _”_ Hinata squeaks.

And then everything goes black.

* * *

 

When Hinata comes to, his first instinct is to grapple at his chest. Bile rises when he feels his own t-shirt wound in his fingers and not the familiar softness of Kageyama’s sweatshirt.

It takes him only a second or two to realize that it’s bundled beneath his head in a make-shift pillow. The next thing he realizes is that he’s on the floor of the laundromat – the lights are off and it’s completely quiet. He’s alone.

He sits up, holding his throbbing head in his hands and groaning loudly as he’s bombarded with memories from…

From…

He blinks hard, shaking his head and squinting up through the darkness at the clock on the wall. 

From… maybe twenty minutes ago, it seems. It’s just past four now.

Shaking his head again, he pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He fainted. Christ, he fucking _fainted_. All because… b-because…

 _“_ Shit. _”_

His trembling hands slowly rise to his neck, pawing gently, fingertips pressing to the skin over his throat and down towards his shoulder. But his hands come away dry. There’s no blood. No injury.

Aside from a mild headache and a dull pain in his back from where it hit the edge of the counter, Hinata is fine.

He cradles his head again and squeezes his eyes shut. It isn’t possible. It’s _not._

But he knows what he saw.

Teeth. Those fucking teeth. Hinata _knows_ what he saw – knows for sure it wasn’t some trick. That wide smile of hers had been a part of his little hate-cocktail and he would have noticed if she had fangs like that earlier. But he remembers the look in her eye right before he went out. Something had startled her. Something outside the window.

What was it, though? And why isn’t he injured from his fall? And who laid him out so carefully on the floor?

Hinata sucks in a breath and leaps to his feet.

He falls immediately.

He waits a safe ten seconds for his blood to circulate back into his head before he uses the counter to slowly haul himself up, careful to let it help keep his balance before he’s steady on his own colt-like legs.

Once the threat of a faceplant is behind him, he sprints through the dim building to the office, praying his hardest that the security cameras are still on and they caught the incident and captured whatever demon that peeked in the window that was enough to frighten a…

A…

Hinata swallows down the word as he switches on the light, wincing at the visual intrusion of harsh fluorescence.

Is he crazy for believing this? Maybe he’s suffering from some neurological damage. Shit, maybe he has a tumor. That could explain it all, right? The light-headedness, the rabid sexuality, the fainting. Maybe he hallucinated the fangs.

With these thoughts jumbling around in his maybe-tumor-riddled brain, Hinata switches on the monitor and perches on the edge of the chair, reaching to wake up the old computer as well. It’s all still on – he didn’t turn it off, obviously, and it’s doubtful that the person who turned off the lights would have gone out of their way to do _all_ of his closing duties, so it makes sense that the cameras would still be rolling.

The shitty computer can barely run Windows 95, so it takes a bit of maneuvering for Hinata to figure out how to play back the recordings, and it doesn’t help that he’s shifting his eyes to the live video feed every three seconds – with the lights off in the building, there’s a perfect, glare-free view of the sidewalk and street. So anything out there would be seen easily.

Human or…

Hinata shudders.

Human or _otherwise._

His heart hammers wildly as he navigates to the video file, tongue darting to wet his lips when he clicks _rewind_.

The anticipation is too much for him and he covers his face with his hands while the video flickers backwards. When he thinks enough time has passed, he peeks, and there on the bright screen is him, barely moving, even in the quickness of rewind, as he’s flopped over the counter – in the midst of fantasizing, no doubt. A tug of self-consciousness pulls at him and he hits _play_ , pressing his palms to his burning cheeks he watches himself turn towards Kageyama’s laundry basket.

He groans at himself and fast-forwards to when the girl appears in frame and several seconds after, watching her lean against the counter beside him. He’s squirming and fidgeting with his finger poised on the mouse, watching with his heart in his throat, waiting for the perfect moment to hit _play._

He huffs out a quick breath when he sees himself flail, throwing the girl’s hands off him, and anxiously clicks _play_.

It’s both fascinating and terribly embarrassing to watch himself gesticulate out his tantrum, but his own infantile limb-flourishing isn’t what he’s interested in – he keeps his attention stuck on the dark street beyond the window.

And right when the girl crushes Hinata to her chest, he sees it.

His live-wire nerves fire, pinning his eyes open wide and slamming his hand against the spacebar on the keyboard to pause the video.

Hinata’s heart skips. Trips. Flutters around wildly and he has to part his lips to breathe.

Because in the shot, now, with them, isn’t some demon or beast or bite-sized Cthulhu on the outside of the window.

It’s Kageyama.

Which isn’t surprising, really. Exciting, yes.

Only he’s not _outside_.

Hinata squints, leaning in towards the screen. He pauses the video, hits _rewind_ , then _play_. But again, Kageyama is just _there_ – there’s no entrance to speak of. The door doesn’t even budge. The bell doesn’t jingle. Not that you’d hear it on the video. You get his point.

Hinata’s breathing rustles stiffly and he wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans before pointing the cursor over the video progress bar and clicking – one frame back, one frame forward; one frame back, one frame forward.

Kageyama just appears. _Materializes_.

However, his disbelief is cut short, almost immediately overshadowed by urgent, animalistic arousal that scalds his insides at finally seeing the man again when Hinata just lets the video play through, albeit in grainy low quality.

That jet-black hair peeking from beneath the hood of a black jacket, porcelain-pale skin and eyes cast in shadow. He knows the pull of those eyes. Dangerous and blue like the hottest flame.

He breathes out an audible whine, his body heating with every recalled touch of those strong hands, every breathy growl pressed to his ear.

Shaking fingers move the cursor, dragging the video back to the moment the girl spotted Kageyama, how she detached from Hinata in a panic. He watches the moment he sees her teeth and the understanding unfold in his own face, the way the blood seems to drain from it.

And how Kageyama is by his side even before he loses consciousness.

When Kageyama catches him on the screen, Hinata digs his fingers into his trembling thighs. Maybe to stymie some of the blood that’s now rushing to his cock from the mere thought of Kageyama touching him. Except he _is_ touching him. Well, _was._ Minutes ago.

The girl has since fucked off several feet; her body is all coiled and tense with the threat of danger and she leaps back when Kageyama jerks his face towards her. Hinata can’t see the menace in his expression with the hood shrouding his eyes, but with how the girl high-tails it out of there in a hurry, Hinata imagines it was lethal.

But whatever, it barely registers to him that she fled because there’s nothing on this planet more important than keeping his eyes stuck on the man carefully lowering him to the floor and kneeling beside him. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his head and he’s already so hard it hurts. Hinata’s cock thumps in his pants when Kageyama raises a big, pale hand to push back the hood and he finally gets a full glimpse of his face.

That. _That_ is what pushed Hinata against the wall. That heart-stoppingly gorgeous man, creature, monster, _whatever_ ; _that_ fucking work of art is what preyed on Hinata, what stalked him, what chose to spend time with him when Hinata needed company and whose eyes light up at the mention of _Star Wars_ and at stupid photographs of Hinata…

A crease forms in Hinata’s brow. His pounding heart throbs off-tempo – but only for a moment. Because Kageyama is moving again.

The very marrow of his bones ignites when Kageyama lifts a gentle hand to Hinata’s forehead, smoothing his messy hair off his skin. Hinata mimics the gesture with his own hand as he watches, retracing the path of Kageyama’s fingers, his breath taking on a rattle.

But when Kageyama carefully tugs the sweatshirt up and over Hinata’s head with a strong arm cradling his back while he does it, before laying Hinata back down, Hinata whimpers, folding his legs up beneath him on the chair and squirming all over the place at how his t-shirt hitched up in the wake of the hoodie. The man folds the blessed garment before tucking it beneath Hinata’s head.

And then Kageyama notices the t-shirt, too.

Hinata can see it in the way his head moves – a quick jerk of it that rustles the dark hair over Kageyama’s forehead when he looks away and a big hand rubs up over his face as it stays pointed off to the side. But then that hand drops again, a palm pressed firmly to pretty lips when Kageyama glances back down.

And when Kageyama’s other hand reaches, Hinata’s breath leaves him; he watches, mesmerized as long digits play at the hem of the shirt hiked up to the middle of his ribs. Toying with the fabric. Plucking at it. Pinching it beneath the pads of his fingers.

Hinata’s breath returns in a violent way when one of those fingers grows bold and traces a slow, _slow_ line down Hinata’s bare stomach. Hinata’s hands fly to grip the edge of the desk as he watches, utterly transfixed, as Kageyama continues to trace little patterns onto Hinata’s belly – the touch dragging over his navel, drawing lower and lower to slip over where the waistband of his jeans rest on his hips.

Kageyama’s other hand has moved, though not far. But the change makes all the fucking difference in the world as now he’s biting on his finger, just the first one, and just the side of it, the knuckle trapped between white teeth while he watches his other hand work.

Hinata jolts – they both do, both he in real life and Kageyama in the video – when he sees himself stir. His hand slides up over the tiled floor to rest by his messy hair and his head lolls to the side, exposing the pale line of his neck to Kageyama, as if unknowingly offering himself up (or, christ, maybe it was knowingly, unconsciously or something – but, no, if it _was,_ Hinata is sure that he would have managed to shimmy out of his pants while he was at it). And if Hinata were watching a movie, he’d recognize the hot rush in his blood as a sense of danger for the character on screen.

But since the character is _him_ , and only minutes prior, the surge of heat that sweeps through him only serves to lift his chin and drag his bottom lip through his teeth, scraping from his throat in the form of a coarse moan that transitions to a whimper when Kageyama’s bitten finger leaves his mouth and he reaches for the new gift of vulnerable flesh.

He caresses Hinata’s neck experimentally, with the very tips of his fingers, and Hinata shivers, his thighs widening involuntarily where he kneels in the chair and the warmth of his palm cloaks the throbbing length in his tight jeans. Kageyama’s other hand drops again to Hinata’s stomach; and when those fingers splay out over the expanse of his skin, Hinata sobs out, cocking his head back and rubbing his hand hard over himself.

His head snaps back down, unwilling to miss a second of this blissful torture. And then Kageyama does the unthinkable.

He moves, fluid and cat-like to straddle Hinata’s hips, planting his hands beside Hinata’s head to hover over him. And Hinata sways in the chair, almost blacking out again; but he catches himself on the desk, the sudden slap of is palms making the monitor flicker and his breath hitches in alarm.

But the image steadies and Hinata leans forward, close enough to fog up the screen and he watches Kageyama. Watches him just… stare. Looking down at Hinata’s unconscious face. He stares for so long, so motionlessly, that Hinata begins to panic, thinking maybe he jarred the video into freezing. Just as he raises an unsteady hand to the mouse, Kageyama moves, too. Slowly. _Very_ slowly. Ducking down – forward—

 _“No,”_ Hinata whispers, eyes widening to saucers as Kageyama’s dips towards him. _“Oh no… no… no no no.”_ He covers his mouth with his palm and falls back into the chair. Then both hands grab for his neck. Feeling. Pawing. Desperate to feel evidence of the bite that sure as fuck had better be coming on the video because no. No – he’s _not._ There is absolutely no goddamn _way_ that they share their first kiss while Hinata _is fucking unconscious._

But no matter how much his frantic fingers search, he’s woefully unscathed. Unpunctured. Unmaimed.

And a few more tense seconds of watching the screen shows him that he’s unkissed as well.

It’s a weird feeling, sighing with relief with disappointment gnawing at him. But he watches Kageyama still, his second-thoughts manifesting in his body language with the way he hangs his head. The way he gently presses his face into red hair, instead. The way a hand again finds its way to his belly, smoothing over the naked skin, up beneath his shirt.

And oh, _oh_ if he closes his eyes he can still feel fingers playing softly over his ribs, grazing over his sensitive chest, the way his nipples pebble beneath the touch...

Hinata whimpers and presses a hand between his thighs as he pries his eyes open. Shit, doesn’t _need_ to close them to feel it. His skin burns with electricity where he was touched, goosebumps pricking in the fiery wake, kissing down his arms and shivering along the base of his spine.

Hinata gulps down his heart, leaning forward to grip the desk with one hand as his hips begin to rock forward and back, grinding himself hard against his palm.

“‘yama... _a-ah_ —”

Kageyama is on the move again, touching both hands to the side of Hinata’s rib cage, holding him, as he slides down the length of his body. When his face is aligned with Hinata’s stomach he pauses, and _god_ Hinata would kill to be able to see his expression. Kill – or maybe die. _That_ seems more likely.

The man inclines his head, looking back up toward Hinata. Checking to see if he’s waking, maybe. That his next move is safe, perhaps. Or maybe just for the enjoyment of seeing Hinata’s face. But Hinata isn’t wondering at any of that because his mind is a swirling mess of viscid lust and smoldering anticipation. If his shaking body wasn’t so needing of oxygen he’d be holding his breath.

And then Kageyama dips down.

His nose nudges against Hinata’s belly. Gently. Slips over the skin, back and forth. Hinata can almost feel the heat of his breath as he rustles the hem of his shirt up even farther, retracing the path of those wandering fingers and it stirs Hinata’s mind into a dizzying desperation – works his fingers faster and harder over his cock. He already feels that heat in his gut coiling tighter and tighter and tighter. He wants to finger himself. Wishes he could fill, if only a little, the wanting, waiting emptiness inside him that has only grown since Kageyama appeared in his life.  

And then Kageyama moves low.

 _“Ah—_ god _—”_

Lower.

_‘He likes you.’_

And Lower.

_“Sh-shit—"_

And presses a soft, lingering kiss right at the base of Hinata’s belly.

Hinata sucks in a breath when the girl’s words echo in his head.

_‘He isn’t human.’_

Hinata comes at that, keening when his orgasm hits with little warning; hips jerk and he soaks his underwear and his jeans right through as his spine arches with the rippling pleasure. A wet warmth dampens his hand as it weakly finishes him off.

He collapses face down onto the desk in front of the screen, groaning at the stickiness oozing down the inside of his thigh. His head rolls and eyes flick up just in time to watch Kageyama tugging his shirt back down before getting to his feet. The man shakes his head and clasps his hands behind his neck, tipping his face to the ceiling in unmistakable chagrin as he steps away from Hinata, turning his back on the motionless figure on the floor.

He turns back once, giving Hinata a long, _long_ look, and then quickly stalks to the door. He flicks off the light and slips out the door.

It’s dark, but Hinata can see himself wake a moment later.

He stops the video and then pops the DVD out of the drive and takes it with him. He um… needs it. For something.

By the time he turns everything off and stumbles through the dark towards the front of the laundromat, he’s already decided to pull some sweatpants out of Kageyama’s basket. They’re _way_ too big, but he’s not trying to waddle home in his cum-soaked jeans.

He foregoes the whole lingering song and dance – doesn’t seem to be much of a point tonight – and he smiles as he pulls on the hoodie before he shoulders his bag and locks the door.

A tired, giddy excitement rolls off him in waves on his quiet walk to his apartment. Though something shadows him – no, not like a _creature_. A feeling. A stirring discomfort that tenses in his chest and wavers his smile. But he shakes it off. He’s just tired.

_‘He likes you.’_

Hinata likes him as well. A lot. Even if he is a…

A…

 _“Vampire.”_ Hinata breathes the word into the night, testing the weight of it. Tasting it.

God help him. He likes that, too.

And now he knows how to get Kageyama to return.

And he’s already hatching a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken some liberties as I have almost NO knowledge whatsoever about vampire lore aside from what I've seen in _What We Do in the Shadows_ and that will be very apparent in future chapters. However there seems to be some debate about whether vampires can be recorded with digital imaging devices, so feel free to chime in with your take on this. I've read both sides of the argument. I just wanted Hinata to sort of masturbate to himself. Sorry.
> 
> As always, come yell at me on tumblr: @majesticartax. I'm also on twitter if that's more your jam: @majesticartax


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Star Wars stuff again! If you don't know what midichlorians are, I suggest a quick googling because they come up later :D
> 
> ALSO please turn your attention to this [FABULOUS VIDEO](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pbe3hA1mM74) by the incredible Karo, which depicts the first two chapters of this fic and istg I think about this video every goddamn day. Karo has been unbelievably lovely and supportive ever since I took the plunge into the kagehina fandom with BP and she deserves the world :D

 

“I’m not sure if you’re hearing me, Shouyou, so I’ll say it louder—”

“Please please please _please,_ Kenma.” Hinata clasps his hands together, begging to his friend on the opposite side of the table over his untouched beer in a booth at the bar. “It’s been over a week and he hasn’t come back. It’s the only way!”

Kenma rolls his eyes and sips at his own beer. “The _only_ way? You didn’t think to get his number or anything?”

“Whether I thought about it or not doesn’t matter because I _didn’t_!” Hinata pounds his fists to the table. “What if this is my only shot at something exciting? What if it’s my only shot at, like, _love_?”

The other man snorts. “You dry hump with a guy outside of a laundromat _once— “_

“But you know about all the other stuff!” Hinata cries. “And it wasn’t even, I mean, we didn’t really, like, I wouldn’t _exactly_ call it… _ugh._ We haven’t even _kissed_ , but I’ve never felt even close to this way about anything or anyone _ever_ , and it just seems like— “

“Move over,” a deep voice commands before Hinata is bodily shoved down the booth as Bokuto muscles his way in next to him with Kuroo following suit. Akaashi politely takes a seat next to Kenma.

“What are you guys talking about?” Kuroo asks, leaning around Bokuto to look at Hinata. “You look like you’re about to cry.”

“He just needs to get laid, so now it’s this whole thing,” Kenma says.

Hinata gasps, placing a hand over his heart. “How _dare_ you trivialize my feelings!”

“Oh, yeah? You need to get fucked?” Bokuto slings an arm around Hinata’s shoulders. “I’ll take one for the team. Should we go to the bathroom or— “

“Gross, no.” Hinata reaches for his beer and swats Bokuto away from him. “I appreciate the offer, though.” He sighs, aiming pleading eyes at his best friend across the table. “All I need is just a little help. I can’t do it on my own. Trust me, if I could I would _.”_

“What exactly is going on?” Kuroo asks.

Hinata drops his forehead onto the table. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Is it, though.” Kenma says.

Sighing, Hinata picks his head back up, but he keeps his eyes lowered to the table. He chews his lip while he thinks.

Because, well, yes. It is hard to explain. Because Kenma doesn’t know the full story. It’s hard enough to get the guy to believe that Hinata’s feelings are anything deeper than pure lust (it’s actually hard to convince himself of that, too, but that’s an entirely different matter), so how do you think he’d take the news that the guy is a fucking _vampire_? Or that, like, there _are_ _vampires?_

Shit. The ease with which Hinata just accepted that fact is, even to himself, a bit alarming. Even with his thirst for excitement.

Maybe he really has lost his mind. Maybe he should take Bokuto up on his offer and get some sense fucked back into him.

But since the mere _thought_ of anyone besides Kageyama touching him turns his stomach, Hinata truly believes that there’s so much more to this thing than sexual attraction.

But… if Kenma isn’t willing to help him out…he should at least give the other guys the abridged version.

“Well,” he starts, waving his bottle of beer around theatrically. “You see, there’s this… _guy—_ ”

“Done,” Kuroo says, nodding. “I’ve heard enough. What do you need?”

“Wait, what?” Hinata perks up, eyes big. “Really!?”

Bokuto snorts into his drink. “Don’t look so shocked. Of course we’ll help.”

“Yeah, but…” Hinata frowns, “you don’t even know what I need help with.”

“Eh, we know enough,” Kuroo says, glancing over at Kenma.

Hinata blinks from Kuroo to Kenma. “Wait, did you tell them!?”

“I told them you’d be needing some help,” the other man says, shrugging. “And what you said to me initially. That’s all.”

“And that you’re madly in love,” Akaashi adds.

“I’m not, I mean, aw! You guys!” Hinata smiles wide. But then he shoots a look at Kenma. “But you said—”

“I said _I_ can’t help you,” Kenma says. “I’m hardly the right person for the job from the way you explained it.”

Hinata looks off to the side, nodding thoughtfully. “Okay, yeah, I can see your point. But…” he gasps, excitedly drumming his palms on the table, “I can think of a way you could help make it even better!”

“I love this! And I don’t even know what it is yet!” Bokuto his hands together excitedly. “So, what’s the plan?”

Hinata’s friends and saviors lean forward expectantly as Hinata licks his lips.

“Okay, guys,” he says, voice hushed and serious, “here’s what I need you to do.”

* * *

 

It’s two-fifty a.m. and all is well. And by _all is well_ Hinata means it’s boring as shit in the laundromat.

Rather. It _would_ be.

The machines are quiet. The building is still and empty and the only sound comes from the gusts of cool autumn wind beyond the window. Hinata hopes he seems calm where he sits lightly on his stool, glancing over some home-improvement magazine.

But inside he’s positively _quaking_ inside.

Because he’ll see Kageyama tonight.

Yes. _Tonight._

The stage has been set. Watches have been synchronized. Or, rather, like, they agreed on the timing. None of them wear watches so cell phones have been… glanced at. Actually timing isn’t even really that important—you know what, whatever— the point is, is that _Kageyama will come tonight_. Hinata has made sure of it.

He hopes so, anyway.

All he has to do is wait.

He’s still a little surprised that everyone agreed to this kind of a thing so easily. They even jumped at the chance without knowing the whole story of _why_ Hinata thinks something like this will work or even _why_ this crazy plan is even necessary. Maybe boredom is a bigger problem in this town than he thought and his friends are just dying for something to do. Even the rational and unflappable Akaashi seemed uncharacteristically enchanted by the idea.

Or…

Oh god.

Is Hinata really _that_ pathetic that his friends are willing to go to extreme lengths just to _maybe_ help get him laid?

Well, anyway. Hinata sits. With one eye on the magazine and the other on the clock. Which isn’t unlike most other nights, to be honest; although he isn’t usually forcing himself to quit squirming around on his stool like his pants itch. He needs to chill the fuck out. Just a little.

But _does_ he though? Like, he’s never dealt with the supernatural (not to his knowledge, at least), nor with feelings of this magnitude. So his energy level seems _totally_ appropriate given the circumstances.

But for now, yes, he _should_ calm his tits; to avoid rousing any suspicion, he needs to control himself a bit. Just in case he’s already being watched.

The thought of that makes his stomach all hot.

He blinks up from his magazine to peer out into the dark, empty street every few minutes, throwing on his best mask of apathy. He tosses a yawn or two into the mix and forcibly stops his legs from bouncing with anticipation as time crawls steadily and slowly towards closing time.

It’s three-forty-five when the little bell jingles.

“HEY!” Hinata jerks his head up, knocking the stool over when he jumps to his feet. “I-I mean, hi! Yes! Good evening!”

Kenma snorts. “ _Good evening_ ,” he repeats as he approaches the front of the counter with two to-go cups in hand, watching Hinata right the stool. His eyes are bleary, shadowed by dark circles beneath the crinkle of amusement. “Busy night?”

“Oh, ah, ha ha! Same as always! You know!” Hinata replies stiffly, rubbing the back of his neck. “The um, t-the usual!”

“Why are you yelling?” Kenma throws him a look of warning when he sets Hinata’s hot chocolate in front of him. But the severe expression dissolves again into humor. “Nice shirt,” he says.

“What’s wrong with it?” Hinata shoots a startled look down at the white shirt, blistered with dark-red lettering; the shirt that he made an explicit, _executive_ decision to wear that evening—

“ _Fangs for the memories_?” Kenma reads, smirking. “Well, I guess it _is_ almost halloween.”

“That’s right, it _is_.” Hinata feels his face heat, wondering if maybe he’s the biggest dork that ever lived and pressing his lips into a hard line. He snatches for his cup and then sighs. “Thanks for this.”   

“Mhm,” Kenma hums, glancing behind Hinata. “You’re lucky I was working late,” he lies to the empty laundromat.

Hinata hums, too, sipping the warm drink. He holds the cup with two hands to keep it from shaking when he moves it from his mouth. Shit just got real. This is _really_ happening. He should have asked for a shot of alcohol in his hot chocolate.

“So…” Kenma drums his fingers on the counter. “Is it always this empty?”

“Sorta,” Hinata says. “Around this time, anyway. So… how was, uh, work?”

“Fine.” Kenma turns and leans back against the counter, casually drinking from his own cup and looking out the window. Hinata follows his gaze and a heavy gust of wind swirls some leaves in the street. Hinata can hear the building rattle. It beats his heart faster.

He wets his lips. “I-is it cold out?”

Kenma shakes his head. “Not really. Just windy.”

Hinata sniffs. He decided to forego the comforting warmth of Kageyama’s hoodie that night, and instead brought one of his own for the walk home; not that he thinks Kageyama would care if he saw him wearing it again. He quite obviously doesn’t mind, given his actions from last time, but Hinata isn’t sure how the night’s planned events will unfold, and he’s not trying to dirty someone else’s clothes.

That, and he doesn’t feel like explaining to his friends when they question the oversized garment that, _yes_ , he really is that creepy.

Silence stretches long, then, as the two of them just watch the wind sway and rustle the crop of trees that furnishes the field across the street. Hinata wants to ask if they’re crazy for this. If Kenma is nervous at all. If it’s obvious that he’s shaking like the leaves in those trees. But what if Kageyama is already there somewhere? Watching. Listening. Wondering who this new guy is that’s chummy enough with Hinata to be bringing him hot beverages in the wee hours of the morning.  

A coy smile spreads over Hinata’s lips.

What if Kageyama is jealous? Jealous that he…

That…

_Oh._

The smile drops right from his face.

Maybe it isn’t in their best interest to be making any vampires jealous. He’d rather not have his best friend be Kageyama’s next meal.

He takes an inconspicuous step away from Kenma.

But the thought of Kageyama even having the capacity to be jealous makes Hinata tingle all over. That the man’s feelings might be strong enough to lead to some stupid petty resentment.

Hinata frowns.

Well. Kageyama better be able to control those feelings – which may or may not exist – because insecurity is _annoying_ and _pointless_ because Hinata is probably the most faithful person in the world and it’s not like he _owns_ Hinata, for fuck’s sake, and Kenma is his _friend_ and he has lots of friends so who the hell does Kageyama even think he is!? Looks like it’s up to him to _show_ Kageyama just how unnecessary his stupid jealousy is—

“Are you working on halloween?” Kenma asks, puncturing the tirade.   

“Um, no,” Hinata says, blinking back to reality. But his eyes stay fixed across the street. Curious, almost. Drawn to the small part of the field that’s beyond the reach of lights – its features soaked in darkness, gaping like some portal. Even with the full moon bathing the earth in its glow, the shadow reins. He clears his throat. “My boss is worried about vandalism, so we’re closed for the night.”

“Well, Tanaka and Nishinoya are having a party at their place, costumes are mandatory obviously.”

“Obviously,” Hinata mutters, taking another sip of his drink. His eyes narrow over the cup at that patch of dark. Nothing has moved, but his attention is rapt. His heart beats faster.

Kenma continues to talk and Hinata continues to stare, mesmerized. He can’t _see_ anything, but he swears the shadow almost flickers. Pulses. He knows it’s just an illusion, but he can’t shake the powerful feeling that something is very much _there_ , hiding.

Watching him.

Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

He swallows and wonders, belatedly, if he’s putting his friends in danger. This half-hatched plan, this desperate ploy, was just some rope for him to hold on to. The end product of some wild fantasy that he’d assembled over the course of several boring, lonely nights that always results in a love affair for the ages, in his head, or, in the very least, the best sex anyone has ever dreamed of. After all, how could sex _not_ be mind-blowing when your partner is a—

“What do you think you’ll go as?” Kenma asks.

“Vampire,” Hinata mumbles at the misbehaving shadow.

“A vampire?”

“What!?” Hinata jerks, blinking over at his friend. “Um, s-sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked what you were dressing up as, and you said a vampire.”

“Oh, um,” Hinata laughs awkwardly, rubbing at his eye with the heel of a hand. It’s warm from the hot chocolate. “No, not that, um, maybe… like, a zombie, or something. Something super easy.”

“Lame,” Kenma yawns. “Vampire would look good on you.”

“I think so too,” Hinata smirks inwardly at the double meaning. “But, nah. That would be… weird.” Hinata ignores the strange look his friend gives. But then he shakes his head. “Wait, how?”

Kenma shrugs. “You’re pale, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you work nights,” Hinata grumbles. “But other than that, I definitely don’t have any other vampirey things going on. They’re all, like, tall and sexy and pretty, like,” Hinata gestures vaguely with his palm in a circle in front of his face, “you know, _here_.”

“I guess so,” Kenma yawns. “I always thought you’d make a good werewolf, if we’re gonna stick with classic monsters. Actually, yeah. That would fit you so much better.”

Hinata scoffs. “Are you saying I’m not _pretty_!?”

“ _You_ said you weren’t pretty,” Kenma says, imitating Hinata’s hand motion back at Hinata’s own face, “you know, _here_.”

Hinata smacks his friend’s hand out of the air. They both jump at the sound of something thudding against the building.

“Damn,” Kenma mutters, casting a look out the window. “The wind is getting crazy.”

Hinata laughs awkwardly, worriedly following Kenma’s gaze and clicking at the lid of his cup with his fingernail. “So, um, what are you dressing as?” he asks.

“Don’t know yet.”

Hinata scowls at the side of Kenma’s face. “You can’t call my idea _lame_ when you don’t even have one yet!”

Kenma shrugs again and yawns, glancing at the clock. “I’ll think of something. It’s four, by the way.”

Drawing in a breath, Hinata checks the time, too, and then sets his cup down on the counter. He swallows. “Yep! Look at that. It sure is.” He takes a deep, stabilizing breath. “Well, okay… wait here, then… let me just, um, yeah.” Hinata jams the key into the register and then rips the drawer out before tripping his way from behind the counter. He walks stiffly past the row of dryers, matching his footsteps to his rapidly quickening pulse until he hits a flat-out run. He throws open the office door and grabs at his chest with his spare hand. His heart is pounding so hard it _hurts_.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Hinata whispers to himself, warding off the impending heart attack. “It’s fine. Everything is normal. You’re _fine._ ” He gulps down his nerves and moves into the office, stashing the money and then sitting down at the computer. He’s shaking so badly the cursor jumps all over the screen when he places his hand on the mouse to shut the system down. But before he does, he glances over to watch the security feed. He catches the tail end of what might be a shadow at the edge of the window, but he chalks it up to wishful thinking. Because, really, there’s nothing there; Kenma looks like he’s falling asleep over the counter and Hinata mentally scolds him to wake the fuck up, because they have to keep their wits about them from here on out.

It takes a few misplaced clicks to finally power off the computer, and he drops the register keys several times when trying to hang them on their little hook. He eventually just chucks them onto the desk.

He isn’t _nervous_. No, no. Not at all.

Hinata has never been so goddamn excited for anything in his life.

He flicks off the light and slams the door too hard behind him, wincing at the _bang_. He takes a deep breath.

And then dashes towards the front.

“Okay, well let’s go!” he says in a rush, snatching his red zip-up hoodie from beneath the counter, struggling to stick his noodly arms into the sleeves. He doesn’t zip it. He doubts his fumbly fingers would be so kind as to allow that sort of thing. “Ready?”

The last word bears the full hue of his excitement – the two syllables a chorus of tense anticipation.

Kenma eyes him warily, nodding, his own jitters starting to show in the tug of a nervous smile.

Hinata downs the rest of his hot chocolate like a shot, gasping out a breath and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before chucking the cup into the garbage beside the counter.

They walk to the door.

He opens it.

Flips off the light and shuts the door behind them.

He slips the key from the lock before turning towards the street and breathing in the night.

And then they’re walking.

_Here we go_.

It isn’t cold, Kenma was right, but the air holds just enough chill to fog his quick, excited breath as they move beneath the pallid gleam of the moon and the yellowish halos of the streetlamps, his skin prickling with goosebumps of impatience. He can taste the air – like silvery breath over his tongue. Crisp and electric. Charging him up. Whirling his mind around scattered pieces of memories of Kageyama as the signature of the man’s touch scrawls shivers up his back.

He and Kenma make some attempt at awkward small talk to avoid suspicion, but Hinata is barely listening, letting his inclination to chatter take the wheel. Autopilot in the most literal sense as he drones on without direction.

If the sidewalk weren’t so solid beneath him, Hinata wouldn’t know it was there as he blindly watches it slip by. His vision swims and blots with the endless possibilities, the night’s infinite alternate endings that each conclude with those deep blue eyes and strong, eager hands roaming over his sensitive skin, pulling at his hair.

God he hopes this works.

He jolts when his phone buzzes in his pocket.

_I can hear you breathing, calm down. you sound deranged_ , the text says.

Hinata casts an annoyed look at Kenma’s shoes. They both pocket their phones.

Their footfalls and mindless conversation echo softly as their own shadows follow them past darkened windows and doorways swirling with rustling autumn leaves. Hinata glances furtively from the sidewalk to the corner as they near the end of the street. He wets his lips.

His heart thumps in his ears and with increasing ferocity as they close in on _the spot_ – each sidewalk crack a line in the sand. Their strides pushing boundaries of his fleeting rationality. Hinata finds himself spreading out his steps to cover more ground, to get to the corner faster. He senses the hitch in Kenma’s gait to keep up with him.

And then he sees it – a dark silhouette peering around the edge of the building. It takes all of Hinata’s willpower not to sprint towards it.

But he already feels like he’s flying when the wind kicks up a fit, whipping through his hair, the innocuous chill stinging his hot cheeks.

_Almost. Almost. Almost._ The quick t _ap tap tap_ of sneakers on pavement becomes a metronome to his mantra.

Almost. _Almost._

There’s a quiet crunch as the wind sweeps leaves into their path.

Almost there.

Hinata’s breath rasps into his throat on a hard inhale as they turn the corner and—

And—

_And!_

And nothing.

He breathes out.

They come to a stop on the deserted sidewalk and Hinata frowns.

The world is still. No sound except his own harsh breathing. Even the wind has calmed. His eyes sweep the empty street – up and down – before he turns towards his friend, brows pinched and lips forming into words of confusion.

He sees Kenma’s eyes go wide.

Hinata barely gets out a syllable before he’s grabbed from behind, swiftly immobilized as strong arms wind around his upper body and a big hand smothers a shout against his lips. Hinata’s hands fly instinctively to the one pressed to his face and he claws at it, squirming and thrashing against his assailant, watching as the same fate befalls Kenma as a dark, hulking figure looms up behind him, dressed all in black with a ski mask pulled down over his face. The malevolent figure swallows him up into a powerful hold, muffling all cries of alarm.

And then Hinata feels the chest pressed to his back rumble with deep laughter.

“He’s stronger than he—looks,” the man says, struggling to keep his grip.

“So is— he. Jesus, _dude_ —” the other attacker hisses as Kenma flails.

Adrenaline pumps hard, sharpening his senses and flooding his muscles with icy strength, but there’s just no way he could win in a battle of brawn against this guy. Hinata isn’t _weak_ by any means, but there _are_ drawbacks to being small _._ Hinata does his best to scream against the muffling palm as his heart kicks up into his mouth. Wild brown eyes dart side to side and he brings a foot up and juts it down hard, again and again, blindly aiming for a foot, but the man behind him has too-wide of a stance to be thwarted by any of Hinata’s shit.

But he at least seems to be irritated by it.

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Hinata’s captor shakes him roughly, adjusting the grip over his mouth, “just stop struggling for a _second_ —”

A howl of pain splits the night and Hinata slips from the man’s grasp as he clutches at his bitten hand. But Hinata doesn’t make it far – the man reaches for him in a flail of limbs and catches him at the elbow, whirling him around and grabbing the scruff of his neck to force him face-down onto the sidewalk. Hinata gasps when he feels the man’s weight on him, pinning him to the cement.

“You little _ass_ —”

“W-what are you doing!? What do you want!?” Hinata cries with his cheek pressed against the cold, rough ground. “Stop, please! KENMA—”

A sudden screech of tires drowns his cries and Hinata cranes his neck up to see a black van speeding down the street. His eyes fly even wider when it comes skidding to a halt beside them.

_Wow,_ he thinks. _Nice touch._

The flurry of a fresh struggle and the frantic scrape of soles-on-pavement jerks Hinata’s attention back to his friend as he’s being dragged towards the van. A third masked man jumps out of the driver’s seat and wrenches open the panel door, jumping inside and beckoning to the men to hurry the fuck up.   

“NO, NO, _STOP!”_ Hinata screeches, trying to buck the man off while Kenma expends more physical energy than Hinata has ever seen from him in all his life. His heart clenches with gratitude and it almost brings a tear to his eye; so touched that his lethargic friend would go to such lengths—

_Oh right._

“HELP! HELP! NO— “

“SHOUYOU!” Kenma cries as he’s shoved into the van, hands grabbing for the edge of the door as the two men force him all the way inside

“KENMA! WAIT— NO—”

The flash of a blade beside Hinata’s face tapers his voice off into a squeak and lips press against his ear.

“I can’t believe you bit me!” The man hisses. “Scream like that again and I’ll— _HNG—_ ”

The weight on top of Hinata disappears as whatever threat had been primed is lost to the thud of a body hitting pavement and a deep grunt of pain.

In the millisecond it takes Hinata to spring to his feet, one of the other men is already flat on his back beside the van with Kenma gaping down at him from inside it, too stunned to move as a groaning Kuroo fumbles to shove the mask up off his face. Akaashi jumps out from the cabin, snatching off his own mask to reveal horror-stricken eyes aimed past Hinata—

“Whoa whoa whoa _HEY—”_

Hinata wheels around at Bokuto’s panicked cries.

And Hinata’s breath leaves him. Time stills. The wind blows, but Hinata couldn’t be bothered.

Bokuto is on his back. His hands are raised up by his face in silent surrender with the mask clenched in a tight, shaking fist and the fake blade lying beside him. His eyes are wide with an impossible fear.

But Hinata’s own gaze is drawn to something else.

Black hair obstructs Hinata’s view of the eyes that grip his friend in terror, but the long black sleeves on that familiar jacket don’t conceal the violent tremble to arms that give way to hands wrapped around Bokuto’s throat. Long, pale fingers locked and shaking.

Hinata’s skin has the fucking _nerve_ to flush with envy.

But despite how it looks, Hinata can see the heave of Bokuto’s chest as he pulls in ragged, terrified breaths with Kageyama perched astride his hips. Kageyama isn’t choking him.

Kageyama’s body bobs with harsh breath of his own and the air around him fogs with puffing clouds of panic. Hinata can’t tell who’s trembling more – vampire or human.

A fluid warmth surges through Hinata the more he stares at the man, weakening his knees and swelling his veins with currents of relief – like an addict kicking sobriety. The rush of blood in his ears dampens the frantic voices of his friends, casting their cries into the far far back of his mind until they’re nothing more than faint droning on the wind – white noise miles and miles away. Hinata takes a wobbly step forward in typical junkie fashion, craving a stronger hit. He almost feels like he’s floating, his body as light as the air around him; air that’s slowly blooming with a rosy haze as he slowly glides over the sidewalk—

The wind whips, fluttering Kageyama’s hair off his face and slicing through Hinata’s amorous veil like a knife. He freezes.

Kageyama’s eyes are inked in black. The whites of humanity eclipsed by rage, their blue purged by a hellish void and his teeth are bared – dagger sharp and vicious.

And Hinata has never seen anyone so desperately afraid.

“ _SHOUYOU, DO SOMETHING!”_

Reality strikes like a lightning bolt and Hinata shakes himself before lunging forward, arms outstretched and hands reaching. “KAGEYAMA STOP! WAIT— IT’S NOT REAL! IT’S NOT REAL!”

Kageyama jerks violently, his head snapping around to the sound of Hinata’s voice and his blacked-out eyes startle back to their gorgeous blue. His fangs retract in the blink of an eye and his face slackens with shock. As if he forgot Hinata were there at all.

“It’s pretend! Fake!” Hinata cries, grabbing Kageyama around the bicep and tugging hard to try to free Bokuto. “He’s my friend! This is all just pretend!”

Kageyama immediately lurches sideways, jerking from Hinata’s grip as if burned. He sends Hinata off-balance and flying backwards onto the sidewalk, falling onto his ass and catching himself with his hands.

After shaking the rattle from his brain, Hinata sees that Kageyama is in the same position on the opposite side of Bokuto as his friend scrambles up from the ground, whimpering as he takes cover behind Akaashi and Kenma while Kuroo struggles to his feet.

Kageyama does a double-take – a triple- quadruple-take – between the panting Hinata and the three other men cowering beside the van, and that’s where his eyes remain. Locked. Wide.

The wind hedges. Timidly fluttering the ends of their hair.

Kageyama’s shocked expression morphs into confusion, hovers there for several seconds, and then pinches in anger. His lips press into a hard line before he jumps to his feet, hands at the ready and knees cocked, muscles coiled like a cat ready to spring. Blue eyes flash. A feral growl rolls up from his chest and the men recoil, gasping and cowering.

All except one. And he opens his mouth to speak,

“Kage—”

But the look Kageyama fires at him strikes Hinata’s voice to nothing.

The hurt in those eyes is absolute.

And Hinata realizes he’s made a terrible mistake.

Kageyama’s face crumples with defeat before he turns on his heel and takes off down the street.

But Hinata is charged to run before he’s even on his feet. He bolts after Kageyama to the sound of his friends’ frightened pleas trailing behind.   

The chase immediately whisks Hinata around the corner and back towards the laundromat, the panicked voices getting fainter as they run, until all Hinata can hear is the sound of pursuit. Their footfalls pummel the ground like a hailstorm in the night, carrying them past that familiar brickface and large, darkened window within seconds. Hinata’s hammering heart pumps his legs hard, faster and faster and faster as they tear through the resounding howl of the wind. He shucks his hoodie from his arms and abandons it behind him – there’s no time for wind resistance with Kageyama only just ahead. But suddenly Kageyama swerves, sprinting across the street and towards the darkened field and its shady crop of trees.

This new path plunges them into the shadows with chilly wind needling at Hinata’s face as they dodge trees and the thorny reach of low-hanging branches. Hinata ducks and deflects limbs snapping back in Kageyama’s wake, hissing at a tearing snag at his cheek when he falters.

_“Shit—_ Kage— _STOP—”_ Hinata huffs, backhanding the small amount of blood as it trickles down his face.

But just then, Kageyama changes direction again and they are out of the trees, bursting from the darkness and into a halo of light with Hinata right on his heels. A metallic rattle carries Kageyama over the chain-link fence surrounding a small playground and Hinata hurdles after him.

Hinata’s feet barely kiss the ground before he realizes he’s closing – he’s gaining. Sneakers dig into wood chips and his breath grates from his dry throat; his heart pounds and his arms and legs piston. Kageyama is _there_ – Kageyama is right _there_ and Hinata takes a chance. He stretches out an arm. Forsaking invaluable propulsion for an extra two-feet of reach because Kageyama is right there. He’s right fucking _there_ so Hinata reaches. He reaches.

Almost—

He grits his teeth, grunting with determination.

Using one last burst of speed, Hinata lunges.

Fingers snag into the hem of the black jacket and Hinata’s eyes go wide. His feet stumble in surprise and his other arm windmills, catching Kageyama’s arm before his legs tangle completely.

Wood chips fly as they both tumble to the ground.

Hinata ends up on his back. Stunned and gasping, pulling the night air into his lungs as he stares up at the starry sky. It takes a few seconds for him to realize his wheezing has company – Kageyama is sprawled only a few feet away, audibly gulping in breath as well.

A new rush of adrenaline kicks Hinata to his feet. And Kageyama scrambles up too. They’re close, now, and Hinata could reach out and grab him again if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. He’s frozen.

For one eternal second they lock eyes, fiercely staring one another down amidst the fogging of their heavy breaths, muscles clenched in readiness. Hinata’s legs ache with the tension of another impending chase – every twitch of Kageyama’s fingers a signal of his retreat, every eye movement a threat.

But staring into those familiar eyes that he’s missed so terribly, pure and gentle despite the wild grip of panic, a great surge of emotion overtakes him.

Hinata yells.

It’s a sharp, sudden, wordless thing from the depths of his soul before Hinata grips at his own hair and the tears start to flow – as if a cork had been pulled from his heart.

Kageyama straightens up, then, blinking in concerned alarm and confusion. Hinata’s chest cleaves with this sudden outpouring of feeling and heavy tears burn down his cheeks. He grits his teeth, hissing in angry, shattered breaths as words start to spill—

“ _I-I didn’t— I thought— y-you— b-but I—fuck—“_ and Hinata yells again, throwing his head back to wail into the night. He screws his eyes down and clenches his shaking hands into fists at his sides. And then he rears back.

And punches Kageyama in the face.

The impact of his fist against skin pops his eyes open and Hinata staggers backwards with the recoil. He clutches his stinging knuckles, horrified and mouth agape, teary eyes blinking as Kageyama brings a hand up to his own stunned face. Fingers prod and dab at the edge of his assaulted mouth, his tongue flicking out, running slowly over a fresh bloom of—

“You can _bleed!?_ ”

Kageyama jerks as if he were hit again, his arms falling at his sides and hands clenching to fists.

“What!?” he growls, his brow creasing. “What the hell— of course I can _bleed_ , you idiot! What the fuck!?” Kageyama swipes angrily at his mouth, gathering the spilled blood onto the back of his hand and flicking it off to the side. “What’s wrong with you!?”

“B-but you’re a— a-a—” Hinata swallows, his voice trembling out of him as his throat becomes thick. A choking sob hiccups from his chest and Hinata sags where he stands, his head dropping and shoulders slumping. He finally just plops to the ground, his knees folding beneath him in defeat. “I-I thought…” Hinata whimpers to the wood chips, pressing his hands over his eyes, “I thought you liked me… b-but it was all just… you were just…”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Hinata looks up at the sound of Kageyama’s quiet, graveled voice. His eyes are just as soft as his voice, if not softer, as he watches Hinata cry. He looks so pained – so full of heartache and confusion. But Hinata knows better. He snorts a breath out his nose, jumping to his feet.

“It was all just a _trap_!” Hinata cries, stomping his foot. “Just a bunch of sexy sneaky vampirey tricks meant to lure me in! Like some kind of—o-of anglerfish! You’re just an _anglerfish_! Making my head feel all _weird_ , scrambling me all up inside! You _lured_ me, you asshole!” Hinata rushes forward, shoving hard against Kageyama’s chest and pushing him back. Kageyama raises his hands weakly in defense, eyes wide and stunned. “What were you doing, huh!?” Hinata stomps foreword and pushes him again. “That night in front of the laundromat!? That time after that girl—” Hinata’s voice breaks off into a sob, but he shoves forward again, driving Kageyama backwards, deeper into the playground. “T-touching me like that!? What was that!? Making sure the meat was still fresh? Checking to see if I was _done!?_ ” When Hinata shoves him this time, Kageyama trips backwards, falling hard onto the wood chips and smashing his back into the side of a plastic slide. His eyes go dazed for a second, but they snap back to attention when Hinata dives down onto him to wind his hands into his collar, shaking him hard. “Do I need to go back into the oven or something, Kageyama!? Huh!? How about now, am _I RIPE ENOUGH YET—”_

“STOP TALKING ABOUT YOURSELF LIKE YOU’RE _FOOD_ , DUMBASS!” Kageyama roars, snatching Hinata’s hands from his shirt and holding them tight in a two-handed grip _. “STOP IT!”_

“Why!?” Hinata wails, struggling against the hold. “That’s all I am to you, right!? Just some midnight snack—”

“ ** _Shut up!_** ” Kageyama’s voice does that thing where it shudders in Hinata’s ears, deep and loud and threatening enough to mute his voice in his throat. But then Hinata just lets his head hang, weakly butting his forehead against Kageyama’s chest, over and over again as he cries.

“How could you…” Hinata whimpers, so quiet it’s barely speech at all. “How could you do that to me… you didn’t have to… I already liked you… I liked you so much… so much…”

“I like you too, you idiot!”

“B-because you think I taste good!” Hinata sniffles, stuffing his face into Kageyama’s jacket. His scent only amplifying the ache in his chest. “That’s all it is…”

There’s a long pause before Hinata hears Kageyama swallow and then—

“There’s no doubt in my mind that you’d taste amazing,” Kageyama says in a pained whisper, ducking forward to speak into Hinata’s hair. He sighs. “But that’s— “

“ _See!?”_ Hinata sobs, hating himself to death for the shivers racing through him from the feeling of Kageyama’s warm, rough breath against his scalp. “Y-you just w-wanted to— “

“I think I might be in love with you.”

Hinata sucks in a breath. He lifts his head. Sniffles. “What?”

Kageyama averts his eyes, seeming to struggle with his words. “I-I am,” he says, swallowing hard before looking back and holding Hinata’s gaze steady. “I mean, I know that I am. You have no idea what kind of torture it’s been to—“

“ _No!_ ” Hinata sobs suddenly, jerking his face away when he feels the pull of those eyes. “Please, don’t— stop tricking me! I can’t take it—”

“What are you talking about!?” Kageyama growls. “I’m not _tricking you_ —”

“You are!” Hinata slams his eyes shut to evade the guile as fat tears roll down his cheeks. “I know all about those vampire powers! You can’t seduce me anymore! I’m onto you!”

“Hey,” Kageyama shakes him, “dumbass, look where you are. Does it really look like I’d need to _trick_ you?”

Hinata hiccups himself quiet. Then he opens one eye, rolling it over to the side to look at Kageyama and then down at where his hands are wrapped around his wrists.

“Your survival instinct is shit,” Kageyama scolds. But then he clears his throat. “And anyway… I can’t… do that.”

Hinata has both eyes open now and looks at Kageyama fully. But this time it’s Kageyama who won’t meet his eyes. “What do you mean?” Hinata asks.

“I mean I can’t _do that_ ,” Kageyama scowls down at the wood chips. “That… _thing_ you’re talking about, s-seduction or mind control, whatever you want to call it. I-I’m not… I can’t do it.”

Hinata cocks his head as this news soaks in. “You… can’t?”

“Besides,” Kageyama mumbles quietly as the pink in his cheeks deepens, “that’s super rapey.”

The world starts to fuzz out as Hinata blinks at the side of Kageyama’s face. Kageyama is still muttering something about the ethical implications of hypnosis but his voice dwindles away to nothing but a high-pitched tone in Hinata’s ears. The earth slants at a slow tilt beneath them, slipping around Hinata in a lagging spiral.

Because he can’t _do that?_ He _can’t do that?_

He can’t _do_ that.

_You mean…_

_So then…_

_‘I think I might be in love with you.’_

“And how the hell did you figure it out, anyway?” Kageyama grumbles as Hinata fades back in. Blue eyes flick anxiously back to Hinata’s dumbfounded face when there’s no answer. “ _What?_ ” Kageyama hisses.

“But…” Hinata starts, licking his lips, “then why… all those times that I… when you... I… you mean I just…”

Kageyama arches a brow. “Do you need help?”

“A-are you _sure_ you can’t do that?”

Kageyama glares.

Hinata’s eyes widen. He’d press a hand to his mouth in shock if Kageyama wasn’t still holding his wrists.

_‘I think I might be in love with you.’_

And it seems to just hit him, then, _where_ he is, as Kageyama put it – _what_ Kageyama just said. What he _really_ just said with their hips pressed snuggly together and their faces drawn so so close—

“And who the fuck do you think you are, accusing me of deception when _you_ — you did all _that_ , scaring the hell out of me! Making me think you were about to get—” Kageyama hisses, clenching his teeth hard. “And then you _punched me?!”_

“B-but I thought… I-I thought you…” the shock inside Hinata is gradually being displaced by a slow roiling wave of heat and he can feel it rising in his cheeks like the morning sun. “I didn’t mean to hit you?” Hinata squeaks.

“It hurt, you asshole,” Kageyama rumbles, eyes flashing and fingers tightening in a way that turns Hinata’s insides to goo. Hot little puffs of air rush over Hinata’s lips and he drops his eyes to the smear of blood at the edge of Kageyama’s mouth. He bites his own bottom lip as the borders of his vision start to blur.

He wants to say he’s sorry – he _wants_ to, but this new knowledge of his independent and entirely self-sustained, _not-_ at-all-magically-coerced lust for this guy is making his heart race and throat run dry, and Kageyama’s warmth nestled between his legs is spreading through him, flowing hotter and hotter and hotter to the point that he’s not sure if he’d get the apology out around some cluttering plea for Kageyama to take him right there. Just _knowing_ that burning desire originated from inside himself alone is slowly boiling him alive, making it ten times more real and a _hundred_ times more powerful.

Okay yeah, Hinata spent _maybe_ all of one week believing that Kageyama had him in some kind of sex trance, after he did some hasty internet searches and watched four and a half episodes of _True Blood_ but it was a _strong_ belief, goddammit! So now with nothing damming up the rabid lust, it’s melting through him like opium.  

But then Kageyama sighs and shakes his head, eyes turning sad and pleading. And Hinata’s heart tears in two, his veins freezing to curb the flow of need.

“You were so nice to me,” Kageyama says, almost mournfully. Like he’s somehow unworthy of even the very idea of kindness. “And I was lonely… and I—” his voice cracks, “I-I was attracted to you so I thought that maybe that’s all it was. That I was just grateful to be treated like… a person by someone like you, even though I’m so fucking strange and I sometimes forget how to act… b-but I’m getting better! I swear, I am. And I thought that I maybe I was confused, and that my feelings were just broken because who falls in love with someone so quickly? And then I thought that my attraction to you was just… just me being hungry. _Craving_ you.” He gently bounces his head off the slide in what looks like frustration and closes his eyes. “Do you know how much that sucks? Knowing that you might be confusing love for fucking _appetite_? Imagine ordering a pizza and not knowing whether you want to fuck it or eat it.”

Hinata curls his fingers into his palms and whines, biting his lip.

“But you’re not pizza,” Kageyama cracks his eyes. “I wanted you just the same when I was starving and when I wasn’t. God... you must be so freaked out. I thought my feelings would change once I adjusted but… they didn’t. At all. I like you… _so much_.” He releases Hinata’s wrists and Hinata’s breath catches sharply when a hand finds its way to his hip and the other cups the side of his jaw. The fingers that comb up into his hair make his eyes flutter closed. “Bright…” Kageyama mumbles, entirely to himself. And then he sighs. “You’re all I think about, Hinata.”

Hinata opens his eyes and whimpers again like he has brain damage, clutching his fingers into Kageyama’s jacket to pull himself closer to those parted lips. Hinata has never heard him say so much at once and his mind is reeling at that deep, rumbling voice alone. There’s… _a lot_ to unpack from what he said, but the ultimate meaning woven through all those vague, confusing sentences purges any of Hinata’s own words from his mind. His mouth opens and shuts ineffectively, his gaze wavering from Kageyama’s mouth to his eyes. “T-then why did you run away!?” Hinata finally blurts, his heart a throbbing mess. “Why didn’t you come back?”

“I _did_ come back,” Kageyama tells him, “I-I was there almost every night. I just… wanted to see you.”

“ _Almost_ every night _?_ ” Hinata peeps.

Kageyama swallows. “Yeah, but I didn’t realize how stupid it was to be around you when I hadn’t eaten,” he continues quietly. “My feelings amplified the hunger until it was impossible to separate the two—”

“That night outside the laundromat?” Hinata whispers, his blood running hotter. He impulsively clamps his thighs tight over Kageyama’s hips at the memory and the man groans suddenly, his eyes slipping closed and fingers tightening in Hinata’s hair. “W-were you— then?” Hinata stammers out, stomach swooping when blazing eyes slide back open. “H-hungry?”

“I was out of my mind,” Kageyama says in a husky whisper, “completely insane—“

“You wanted to eat me?” Hinata mewls, leaning in closer. He can feel Kageyama’s breath against his lips, warm and quick. “Was that all?”

“I _wanted_ you,” Kageyama says roughly, “but I was so messed up… so out of control,” Hinata sucks in a breath when Kageyama’s hand untangles from his hair and he grazes his thumb over Hinata’s tender cheek and the drying blood, the cut from their chase through the trees long forgotten. “Shit, I don’t even remember how I got there that night. I just… I could have ripped you apart. I was so scared.”

Hinata trembles all over as he covers the hand at his cheek with his own, watches the way Kageyama drags his lip through his teeth in time with the trace of their fingers over the fresh wound.

The man is right, his survival instinct sucks.

But with the insane pounding of his heart in his ears and the desperate hitching to his uneven breath at even the most subtle, tender of touches, Hinata can’t possibly give a shit about something as trivial as _living_. Need sets fire to his skin and his lungs burn with it, too, as he’s pulled deep, deep, _deeper_ down into those eyes. _Fuck_ , he doesn’t even care if that gaze might be designed to bewitch and ensnare him like a ship to be dashed on the rocks. He’d so gladly shatter for the chance to drown in that endless blue. “A-and now?” Hinata breathes. “Are you scared?”

Kageyama draws his thumb over Hinata’s lips and Hinata parts them wider on a sharp gasp. Hinata can feel him trembling between his thighs, his hand is shaking, his thumb crooking and dipping between Hinata’s teeth. Hinata’s breath billows hot and fast against the man’s skin, and beneath Hinata’s fists Kageyama’s heart is racing, his chest rising and falling with quick, ragged breath—

“I’m terrified,” Kageyama rasps as he slides his wet digit across Hinata’s bottom lip, “I-I’m not sure if I can hold back.”

And just like that, the half-empty vessel he’s been for weeks is filled to overflowing.

“ _Fuck,_ Kageyama,“ Hinata bleats, “then _don’t—“_

His demand is lost to a searing moan against Kageyama’s lips and every cell in Hinata’s body dissolves into low, throaty groan that Kageyama feeds him when Kageyama licks into his mouth. And after just a single taste Hinata knows he’ll never have enough.

An arm circles him and a hand presses hard to his lower back; Hinata gasps at the thick, hard mass he’s dragged over when Kageyama pulls him closer and Kageyama tilts his hips up when Hinata rolls his.

“ _Ah—_ t-tell me—” Hinata pants against Kageyama’s lips, “w-what did you want— to do to me?”

“Are you suggesting I still don’t?” Kageyama breathes. Hinata chokes when Kageyama presses up into him again. He groans, brushing his lips against Hinata’s as he answers. “I wanted to grab you— kiss you— taste all of you—”

Hinata mewls wordlessly, breath shuddering as his cock beats and his whole body throbs.

“—sink into you and suck you dry—”  

Despite that being a possible threat to Hinata’s life, Hinata crushes their lips together again and mind-melting pleasure bursts lights in his eyes. He throws his arms around Kageyama’s neck like his life depends on clinging to this man because it _does –_ Hinata has never been so sure of certain death in all is life than if something were to separate them right now. _Bad survival instincts_ his _ass_ , because he wraps his legs around Kageyama’s waist; Kageyama moans and jerks his hips up, bouncing Hinata in his lap and Hinata sobs, dropping his jaw like he needs to breathe Kageyama in, lapping into his mouth and over his tongue and then Hinata’s world is tilting sideways as Kageyama rolls him over, tangling them together in the wood chips as they kiss and then Hinata is on his back.

Kageyama’s weight on him is heaven, and it’s all he knows in that moment – that and his hands his chest his lips his rolling hips, grinding his thick length over Hinata’s own aching cock. It’s utter ecstasy but god it’s not _enough_ with the denim between them so Hinata whimpers pitifully, fingers clutching at black hair as he takes all that he can get from those lips, reveling even in the tinny bloom of the flavor of Kageyama’s blood in his mouth—

Hinata’s eyes fly wide and he gasps, jerking his head back hard to look Kageyama in the face.

“W-wait—” Hinata wheezes to half-lidded eyes, that blackness edging out the blue as Kageyama stares down at him, panting. Hinata brings a shaky hand to his own mouth, dabbing gently at his lips. His fingertips come away a deep red. “What—”

“It’s fine—” Kageyama assures him lowly. “It’s mine.”

“B-but won’t I— c-can’t I turn into a—”

Kageyama breathes out a shaky laugh. “That’s not how it works, dumbass.”

“But… wait, I thought that—”

“You can’t just eat my blood and have something happen. What the hell have you been reading?”

“But…”

“It has to be my intention to turn you,” Kageyama tells him.

“So…” Hinata presses his lips together, tasting that flavor again. “You can… like, control it?”

Kageyama nods.

“O-oh! Oh… wow,” Hinata nods. Learning. “How?”

Kageyama swallows, looking down at the wood chips. His eyes are blue again. “Um,” he wets his lips. “Midichlorians.”

Hinata’s eyes widen and he nods again, fascinated. But then—

“HEY!” Hinata shouts into Kageyama’s face. The other man winces, but breaks into one of the biggest, teasing smiles Hinata has ever seen. Hinata thrashes like a fish, heaving himself up and rolling Kageyama onto his back and pinning his hands beside his face as Kageyama laughs. “You’re fucking with me!” Hinata cries.

“ _Yes_ ,” Kageyama scoffs. “Obviously.”

“How is that obvious!? Just two weeks ago I had to accept the existence of _vampires_ ,” Hinata squawks. “Who knows what other magical stuff there is in the world! AND WAIT A MINUTE—”

Kageyama winces again, scrunching up his face and turning away.

“ _YOU WATCHED THE PREQUELS WITHOUT ME!?”_   

Kageyama rolls his head back toward Hinata with agony reflected in his faraway eyes.

“Just one,” he whispers dramatically. “It was… enough.”

“Probably shouldn’t tell you about the special editions, then,” Hinata mumbles.

“Jar-Jar Binks…” the shell-shocked Kageyama rasps. “Why…”

“ _Shh_ , it’s okay,” Hinata coos, laying a comforting palm to Kageyama’s cheek. “The rest of the world is right there with you.”

“Really?” Kageyama asks, clutching for Hinata’s hand. Jesus. Is he actually crying?

“Most of it, anyway,” Hinata says with a reassuring smile. His heart aches beautifully and starts thumping out of control when Kageyama squeezes his fingers. And the same fondness he’s felt time and time again with Kageyama all those nights ago comes burbling to the surface from beneath all the thirst – like the time with the banknote, the childlike wonder with his laptop, the fascination with advertisements in magazines and even the times Kageyama would tease him shamelessly. And Hinata realizes something, too.

“God,” Hinata mutters, dipping down to softly press their lips together. He breathes out a slow, shaky breath through his nose and prays that his voice doesn’t waver, “not only is the guy I’m in love with a vampire, he’s also the biggest nerd on the planet.”

Kageyama makes a small noise and Hinata holds his breath, drawing back to see Kageyama blink, shaken.

“You are?” Kageyama whispers coarsely. “Seriously?”

Hinata nods, biting his lip. “I don’t know what else this could be… if you’re not using any powers on me, then…” he frowns. “Unless you lied.”

“I told you, idiot, I can’t—” Hinata silences him with a hard kiss.

When he moves away, Kageyama looks dazed. It puts that familiar heat in Hinata’s face and flips his stomach over. “So,” Hinata murmurs, dropping back down to speak against Kageyama’s burning ear, “what other vampire myths are you going to ruin for me?”

Kageyama sits them up, placing his hands on Hinata’s hips and looking into his eyes. “I’m not sure,” he murmurs. “Mostly because I’m not a vampire.”

Hinata blinks. He blinks again. The wind moves between them, rustling Kageyama’s hair off his face. And Hinata’s brain implodes.

“I’m… wait…” Hinata shakes his head. “But you… I _saw_ —”

“I’m a…” Kageyama looks away, as if embarrassed, “dhampir.”

Hinata balks, narrowing his eyes and jerking backwards so hard that he would have fallen out of Kageyama’s lap had Kageyama not caught him.  

Hinata moves, then, putting his hands on Kageyama’s shoulders peering curiously around one side of Kageyama’s face and then the other. Kageyama watches him warily, brows furrowed.

“What are you doing, dumbass.”

“Shouldn’t you have… like…” Hinata vaguely gestures at his own face. “Where does your trunk go? I thought… are you from the jungle? You can shape-shift, right? Because you really don’t look like… I don’t see how that would work...”

Kageyama blinks at him for several seconds before his face blanks. “Please tell me you don’t think I said tapir.”

“Oh yeah!” Hinata gasps, snapping his fingers. “That’s the word!”

“Those words don’t even sound the same!” Kageyama snaps.   

“Shut up,” Hinata pouts as warmth crawls up his neck and face. What? It’s not like he’s ever _heard_ anyone say the word _tapir_ and yeah, actually, they _do_ sound the same! Hinata squirms in Kageyama’s lap as the embarrassment spreads through him. An odd amount of embarrassment, actually. Hinata isn’t exactly a stranger to making a fool of himself so why this instance is making him feel so flushed and antsy, he isn’t sure. He squirms his hips around again and when Kageyama’s breath hitches Hinata feels a twinge of delight, doubling the meandering heat. So Hinata does it again, watching Kageyama’s face. He swallows hard, putting his warm face into Kageyama’s jacket again. “Dhampirs can have sex… right?” Hinata whines.

“What do you think?” Kageyama answers lowly and with an upward press of his hips.

Hinata knocks his head back, moaning up at the starry night and watching the misty cloud of his pleasure dissipate into the air. “W-well, alright then,” Hinata brings his head back down and deliberately, slowly, rocks himself forward, lifting his chin while Kageyama bites his lip and his eyes slip closed. “What— else? What is a— dhampir?”

“I-It means—” Kageyama groans when Hinata loops his arms around his neck and starts with a slow, torturous roll of hips. Hinata feels himself flush all over, thrilling dizziness sweeps him and he drops his head, pushing his lips to Kageyama’s neck.

“Well?” Hinata gasps against the cool skin, breathing in the man’s scent on his inhale. He missed it so much he’s getting drunk off it quickly. Needing _more_ of it, pulling it deep into his lungs with greedy breaths. He feels feverish – head cottony and skin beading with the friction of their hips.

“I was born—” Kageyama’s voice hitches and he drops his head to speak against Hinata’s ear as they continue to rock together, “not— made.”

Hinata shivers at the low voice and his mouth falls open, breathing hard and blood racing. “A-and?” he forces out. Kageyama’s cock throbs against his, hot and hard and _big_ and Hinata’s head spins, feels like it’s going to explode and his cheeks are on _fire._ No, _no_ , that’s not right, his whole _body_ feels like it’s going up in flames. What Kageyama is saying is _fascinating_ , truly, but right now all Hinata can think about is—

“Is this really— what you want right now?” Kageyama’s voice rumbles way down deep inside Hinata, stoking the fire, and when Kageyama’s fingers dig too hard into his waist to force their hips firmly together, Hinata’s tongue pants against his bottom lip. “To talk about— what I _am?”_

“G-god no, _no_ —” Hinata bleats into Kageyama’s neck, dragging his fingers down Kageyama’s shoulders to fist into the jacket at his chest. Hinata’s heart is beating too fast. His blood is too hot. “Please— _please—_ I’m going _crazy—”_

“Please what?” Kageyama’s hand snakes a fiery trail up his back beneath his shirt to coil into his hair, yanking hard to force Hinata to look at him. “ _Tell me.”_

Hinata keens and shoves a hand between them, groping the thick mass between Kageyama’s legs and chewing down on his lip like he’s starved, eyes pleading and desperate as he squeezes. Kageyama _growls._ His eyes go black again and he and seizes Hinata by the shoulders to claim his mouth roughly. That cock thumps beneath Hinata’s palm when Kageyama rolls his tongue messily past greedy lips and Hinata feels himself leaking steadily into his underwear as his body just gets _hotter_.

“Kage— I-I want you— want you— _please—”_ Hinata babbles against Kageyama’s insistent mouth and stuffs his other hand down between them, using both palms to rub hard at the swollen length. “Need you— need _this—“_

“F-fuck—” Kageyama disconnects their lips, gasping, “Hinata—”

“Please— please—” Hinata continues to weep, his own length straining in his pants but he can’t be bothered by that right now because if he doesn’t get Kageyama’s cock in some way he’s going to fucking _die_. “Let me— let me just—” he frantically paws at the button and fly on Kageyama’s jeans, literally sobbing with happiness when he hears the zipper tug down; the cut at his cheek stings and he realizes he has tears dripping down his face, his fervor too much for his body to bear.

His breath scrapes from his raw throat in labored huffs as he parts the fabric, dips his hands in and takes the hard flesh from Kageyama’s pants.

An other-wordly sound falls from Hinata’s lips when he curls his fingers around the hot, heavy length and Kageyama hisses in a harsh breath through his teeth, leaning backwards onto a hand while Hinata moves his palms up the silky shaft and then down again, pumping him from base to head and rolling his half-lidded, lust-crazed eyes up to Kageyama’s face.

Dark, bloodied and kiss-wet lips part as Kageyama chokes in air, his black eyes glazed with pleasure and stormy with ever-building need as their gazes lock  – but he startles at the tears on Hinata’s face and raises a hand to his cheek, thumbing at the wet tracks but Hinata just turns his head – doesn’t have the mental capacity to explain it, not that he _could_ explain it – and takes Kageyama’s digit into his mouth, hoping that his rolling tongue and even hungrier eyes do the talking for him as he laps at Kageyama’s other fingers, licking over the cool skin and sucking them far back into his mouth.

It seems to work.

“O-oh my god…” Kageyama breathes, his hips jumping and cock twitching as Hinata continues to stroke it. But it still isn’t enough – not _nearly_ enough to quench this rabid thirst so Hinata pulls off Kageyama’s soaking fingers with saliva dribbling shamelessly down his chin and drops down in front of him, coming face to face with the massive length, the head flushed pink – thick and wet and waiting. Hinata licks his lips like an animal presented a feast as he reaches forward; he can’t get his hands back on Kageyama fast enough, fresh tears springing to his eyes as he maps the length with his palms, digits curling around and his stomach coiling tight with heat when he realizes that his fingers can’t wrap the full girth.

Dazed eyes flick up to Kageyama’s face and Hinata takes a moment to drink in the man’s own desperation – his _hunger_ for Hinata.

Only the best kind _._

Hinata’s ragged breath rattles in his ears and his thighs widen over the wood chips and he stuffs a hand between his own legs as he watches those burning, needy eyes, biting his lip as he rubs a hand over himself. Kageyama’s cock beats hard in his other hand and Hinata lowers his eyes just in time to see a thick drop leak from the slit and his breath quickens, his cheeks flare and _fuck_ , he can’t take it anymore—

Hinata dives forward, sliding the fat head over his tongue and past his lips in one motion; Kageyama swears in surprise and fists a hand in the back of Hinata’s hair the same time the wet tip hits the back of Hinata’s throat; Hinata gags from the impact and his mouth floods with saliva that leaks out the sides of his mouth when he pulls back an inch to clear his throat so that he can breathe.

He hears Kageyama choking some apology but Hinata can’t even shake his head to say it’s okay with his lips so stretched and wide so he bobs forward again, down, ready this time for the thick intrusion when it nudges towards his breaking point. Satisfaction and relief curl through him like some smoky drug with the weight of Kageyama on his tongue, and the salty taste at the back of his throat makes his mind reel – makes him whine and shudder and moan. Kageyama’s legs twitch and tremble on either side of him and fingers clench in his hair. He’s panting Hinata’s name like it’s the only word he knows when Hinata starts to bob, forward and back, his hand wrapped around the slick shaft as much as it can and he drags it up and down.

With his heart rate continuing to climb, Hinata fumbles with the front of his own jeans, grappling to fist a hand around his cock and moaning a watery noise of relief that makes Kageyama respond with one of his own.

“It’s good— so good—” Kageyama gasps, “Hina— why is it— so good—”

Hazy eyes roll up so Hinata can watch Kageyama through the blur as he drags his lips back to the tip, watches the anxiety light in those eyes when Kageyama thinks he’s about to leave the wet heat of Hinata’s mouth and Hinata wants to yell about how ridiculous that is, wants to retort with _why are you so BIG_ but instead he sinks forward again, stroking his own cock in time with the drag of his lips because the thought of Kageyama’s cock leaving his mouth makes him want to die.

And with the way his heart rate is still steadily climbing, he just might.

It’s stifling between Kageyama’s legs, the hand stuffed in his hair and scratching over his scalp feels almost cool in comparison to his skin. Kageyama swipes at the sweaty hair matted to Hinata’s forehead and then cups his jaw, thumb sliding over the corner of his lips where they are stretched around his flesh, his eyes pinned to Hinata’s, wrecked and pleading for more.

“God— Shouyou—”

It’s fine. Let him die. Just fucking bury him with this feeling.

Hinata’s hips jump at the low groan of his name and he abandons his own aching cock in favor of wrapping both hands around Kageyama and jamming his head forward, stuffing the leaking head as far back into his throat as he can get it.

Sweat drips into his already-burning eyes and his ears start to ring with a high-pitched whine as he swallows Kageyama down – as he _tries_ to, anyway. To get as much of Kageyama inside of him as he can and what can’t fit he works with both hands, wet and slick and dripping with the spit that dribbles past his lips.

Kageyama is saying something above him, choking out words and parts of his name but Hinata can’t hear any of it. All that matters is sucking Kageyama in farther, pulling him _deeper_ , getting more of him inside.

“God— Shou—”

Hinata’s hips start to sway forward and back, rocking against nothing but the cool autumn air, but there’s no way in hell he’s moving his hands from Kageyama’s body because he needs more. He’s drowning in a sea of unending longing and the flesh in his mouth is the raft, bobbing on the stormy ocean just out of reach because he still needs more. More. More. God, he needs _more—_

Hinata pulls off Kageyama with a sopping wet noise and gasps out a sobbing breath and pulls one back in; his heart is beating, _hammering_ insanely and he just can’t seem to catch his breath. Fire spreads all over his skin, pleasure shivering up his spine as he stares into Kageyama’s eyes.

“Please—” Kageyama begs, “don’t— stop—”

A bodily shudder rolls over Hinata and a hot coil of pressure that has been building and building low in Hinata’s gut finally snaps and Hinata comes with a sob, his untouched cock shooting into the wood chips as he stuffs Kageyama back into his mouth, hips jerking hard, shaking his orgasm out of him.

And it’s all too much for Kageyama.

“Oh my god— oh— _fuck—”_

The tip of Kageyama’s cock twitches and swells against the back of Hinata’s tongue and then Kageyama folds over him, fingers of both hands clutching hard into sweaty red hair as he spills in hot pulses down Hinata’s throat. Hinata’s own hands fist into the hem of Kageyama’s jacket as his eyes water rivers down his cheeks, his body heaving as he chokes, dribbling a mess down his chin in a desperate attempt to swallow it all.

The hands in Hinata’s hair turn soft and doting while Kageyama’s cock still throbs weakly against his tongue, emptying everything he has into Hinata’s mouth as he combs the sweaty hair from his eyes, runs his hands down Hinata’s sensitive sides, asking in a soft, gentle voice again and again if Hinata is okay as Hinata wrings him dry—

But no. No.

Hinata pulls off of Kageyama’s spent cock with a wet, ragged gasp and immediately falls over onto his side.

No. Hinata is _not_ okay.

“I’m— ‘yama— _hah—_ I-I—”

“Hinata? Hey… hey!” Kageyama falls over him, hand gripping at his shoulder, face drawn in panic. “ _Hinata!?”_  

“ _Hah— ah—”_ Hinata breathes loud and rough as his feverish skin continues to burn even hotter. He drops one of his soaked, messy hands between his legs and fists his still-hard cock and shoves his t-shirt up with the other, dragging his searing palm up his chest and groaning at the touch. His fingers crawl up his neck, dip their way into his mouth and he sucks off the salty flavor, his eyes rolling up as he’s shrouded in gauzy curtains of euphoria—

“Kage— _ah_ —” Hinata gasps around his dripping fingers when he finds Kageyama’s terrified eyes, “there’s— _ah— hah—”_

“W-what!? What is it? _Tell me!”_

Even with the chilly wind howling, Hinata’s sex fever is burning him alive.

“I t-think— there’s s-something— wrong.”

“O-oh god oh god,” Kageyama stammers, smoothing his hands over Hinata’s scorching face. “Come on, I-I’ll get you help, what—“

Hinata’s slick hand finds Kageyama’s jacket and his head lolls over to the side, eyes lidded and chest heaving as he pulls him down. “The midichlorians—“ he huffs, “they— they got me.”

Kageyama’s expression turns painfully fond and he actually breathes out a laugh before his eyes turn serious again. “C-come on,” he says in a quiet panic. Hinata mewls in distress when Kageyama zips his pants back up and then gathers him into his arms, rising to his feet and pressing a kiss to Hinata’s head. “I’ll get you to the hospital—“

“ _No!”_ Hinata sobs, fingers clinging to the jacket again. Kageyama looks down, eyes wide.

“But—“

“No,” Hinata repeats hoarsely. “Kageyama— _ah_ — please—“

“What? What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to—“ Hinata rasps, “t-to fuck me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so many things I need to say but I can't remember a single one except NO this is NOT going to turn into an a/b/o fic and Hinata is NOT in heat I swear to god.
> 
> Some questions were answered but now there should be many more (all of which will eventually be answered, like, how exactly did Hinata manage to chase Kageyama down when we’ve already seen that he has some pretty fantastic speed capabilities? What the hell was Kageyama really talking about after he told Hinata that he loved him? WHAT IS HAPPENING TO HINATA?). Speculation is welcome :D
> 
> Thanks for reading <3
> 
> ps- the tapir joke is dumb as shit but it came directly from a conversation i had with someone at work i'm sorry i couldn't help it


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